


I swear it's not me, it's just someone I used to know.

by loststolenandfound



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2014-04-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 18:40:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 80,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loststolenandfound/pseuds/loststolenandfound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis' tired and this is what happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Louis grimaced, the tour was taking its toll on him, he watched through weary eyes at the crew around him. Each person seemed frantic and busy; so much to do, so much to organise. So many people working so hard to make so much happen in so many countries and places and towns that all mingled into one another until they became a simple blur of new sights and new people and, and… 

Louis tore his mind from those thoughts; he needed to just stop thinking and sleep. Sleep was the one thing he craved most right now and yet it was the one bloody thing that evaded him. It was always too loud to sleep, too full of adrenaline to sleep, too stupidly tired to sleep. Barely managing to stifle his sob he wrenched himself from the sofa where he’d been perched for the last God knows how long. He paid no attention to his surroundings and so completely missed the concerned looks of those around him; those who were with him every day could see how the tour was affecting him. The boys – Harry, Liam, Zayn and Niall all felt the same way, surely…but none of them seemed to be showing it in the same way as Louis and Louis, even though he was beyond shattered and completely vacant half of the time thanks to his desperate-for-sleep mind, was angered, almost incensed by the way his band mates seemed to be coping with that which he couldn’t. The thought of his band mates, his best friends, his brothers, not feeling the same horrid feeling as he did should have pleased the 21 year old but he was just so fucking tired, too needy for sleep than being happy for them. He was so jealous that they could fall asleep anywhere, whether on a bus driving along yet another boring concrete road, or yet another bed in yet another run of the mill hotel, hell, Louis had had to physically and mentally restrain himself for yelling at Harry just the other morning when the younger had claimed to have found sleep whilst fully clothed on the floor a metre from his bed. Louis himself hadn’t slept for more than an hour or two here and there and those pathetic naps only came when he forced himself not to drink any of his beloved Yorkshire tea. Those stupid naps were wrenching him away from yet another thing he craved the simplicity of – a mere brew eluded him now thanks to this life.

Louis dragged his weary body out of the lounge area where the band and some of their crew had been sat chatting (Louis hadn’t joined in the conversation once and everyone had noticed bar the young man himself.) He wasn’t sure where his feet were taking him, his mind not caring enough to pay attention, he watched without thought through eyes that were glassy and almost teary due to the overwhelming exhaustion he felt. 

“That boy needs sleep.” Lou’s voice randomly rang out halting all conversation going on around her. 

“He hasn’t had a proper sleep in a long time.” Harry’s voice replied; low in tone and slow but laced with concern for his eldest band mate. 

“Someone want to take a walk with me, see if we can find him before he wanders off somewhere?” Paul asked, pulling himself up from his chair and rubbing a hand down his face in concern. They’d all been watching Louis become more and more robotic- no longer the seemingly carefree boy he had once appeared to be. 

“Yeah I’ll come, could do with a smoke anyways.” Zayn pulled himself upright ignoring the unamused glance at him by Paul.

“You and your bloody fags Zayn Malik.” Paul sent a small affectionate smile at the younger man to show that he was not picking a fight and was immediately attacked by the very same man flinging himself at Paul. 

“Jumping on Paul now are we? My favourite game that is.” Niall leapt from where he’d been sat beside Liam and joined Zayn in affectionately attacking their tour manager and head of security.

“Alright alright boys. Let’s stop now before I show you both how to really wrestle and find that band mate of yours before he gets himself into trouble as usual.” Paul wrenched himself free from the holds of the boys and together the three of them followed in the footsteps of their missing band mate.

Paul, Niall and Zayn searched for Louis for some time before admitting defeat. Worry was grasping at each of the men but they were all aware that given the tired state of the missing man he couldn’t have gone too astray. They headed back to the lounge where they had left everyone and as soon as they entered the room eyes were upon them. 

“Where’s Lou?” Liam asked, looking up from his phone. 

“Couldn’t find him, none of you have seen him then I take it?” Without waiting for an answer Paul was reaching for his own mobile and quickly dialling his fellow security guard, Alberto, who was assigned specifically to Louis. 

Several tense minutes of conversation passed by between Paul and the tinny voice of Alberto through the phone and everyone in the lounge tried to make small conversation as opposed to just ear wigging the one-sided conversation. 

“Alberto hasn’t heard from him since lunch.” Paul sighed heavily ending the call. 

“Well, he can’t have gone too far, he knows it’s sound check soon.” 

“Did you check his room, and the bus?” 

Suggestions littered the air as those gathered brainstormed about where Louis could have gone.

Harry’s phone rang out loudly, startling him so much that he jarred his elbow into Liam beside him, he had been so caught up worrying about Louis that it had taken him by surprise. He looked at the phone completely puzzled when he saw the name of the caller flashing on the screen. Quickly though he pulled himself from his daze and answered hurriedly.

“Stan, hi mate. How are you?” 

“Harry, I’ve just spoken to Lou and there’s something wrong, I’m worried about him. Said something about being tired but he can’t sleep.” Stan’s voice was questioning – almost enough to make Harry believe that Stan didn’t have the faintest idea about how much Louis had been struggling lately and this shocked Harry more than anything as he knew how close the two boys were.

“Yeah, he’s not been sleeping very well.” Harry replied; noticing everyone looking at him questioningly. “He didn’t happen to tell you where he is did he? It’s just…”

Stan interrupted Harry before he could continue, “What? You don’t know where he is? How the hell do you not know where he is? He didn’t sound right Harry.” 

“He was here an hour or so ago but he just wandered off, we’ve had a look for him.” Harry wasn’t sure why he was trying to reason with Stan but he didn’t know what else to say. As much as he adored Louis he was aware that Stan had known the elder boy for longer and Harry was almost afraid of the protective streak that Stan felt for Louis now that he was admitting to him that his best friend had vanished. 

“Fuck’s sake. I knew something was wrong with him. He said something about wanting to get on a bus but he only had a note and no coins, then he made some lame joke about having money but no real cash when he needed it. Fuck, Harry. I thought he was just being weird and talking about the tour bus. I mean, there’s no way he could have got on a proper bus is there? Please, God, please tell me he’s not been able to do something daft like that.” Stan’s voice tapered off in the end, verging closely to panic. That was all Harry needed.

“Fuck, Stan, I’ll call you back mate.” Harry quickly put the phone down. 

“There’s a bus station near here isn’t there?” Harry’s terrified tone along with the actual question told everyone what was implied and chaos immediately followed. 

“Surely he can’t be that daft though, I mean I know this is Louis Tomlinson but still, can he?” 

“Think you just answered your own question there mate.” Niall replied his Irish accent thick; a telling sign of the concern that the man was feeling.

“Fucking hell Tommo.” Liam pulled up the contact for Louis on his phone and pressed the device to his ear waiting to see if the boy would pick up.

“Gone straight to voicemail so god knows if he even has his phone or whether it’s out of battery or he’s just turned it off.” Liam sprang into action and decided to go hunt for the phone, checking whether it was left on his bunk in the bus or on charge in the lounge. Several minutes later he returned to the lounge to find the people within in various stages of panic.

“And?” Paul shouted across the room from where he was sat in heated discussion with several of the band’s security with his phone up against his ear.

“Not there so I’m gonna go with the guess that he has it with him and it’s dead or off.” 

 

“It could be out of signal though so we should keep trying.” Alberto spoke up and relief quickly flooded Liam’s mind at the thought that perhaps their friend was not as lost as it seemed he was.

“We should go to the bus station and see if anyone’s seen him.” Zayn suggested only for Lou to agree but say that someone should go whose face isn’t known by the fans that will no doubt be milling around. 

“God only knows how that boy managed to get himself lost when there’s always a fan around with a camera.” Lou’s ‘thinking out loud’ attracted the attention of Paul who shouted an almighty curse, following it up with a hurried explanation as to why; saying that perhaps Louis hadn’t got on a bus but someone had taken him instead.

“When we find our idiot I am going to sit you all down and make you wear collars and leads because you five are making me go grey and wrinkled well before my time.” Paul took a minute from his stressed out conversations with security personnel to spare each member of One Direction a promising glare.

“Better yet, why not get them one of those baby harness things that little children wear; I’m sure Louis suggested getting one for Lux at some point until I told him that he needed it more, being the immature person that he is half the time, if I’d only followed through.” Lou tried to smile, she wanted to put off bringing the conversation back to harsh reality but she knew that she’d have to start doing the bands hair as they had a show that night.

\-----------------------

Louis sits with his head pressed against the sun warm glass of the coach he’s on whilst pandemonium rains down on the One Direction crew and remaining four band members. He’d not been able to pay for the bus he had tried to get because they wouldn’t accept his large dollar bill and so he had been told that he could only use such money when paying a coach fare. This suited Louis fine as he didn’t have a destination in mind; he just wanted, no he just needed, to get away from it all. 

He hasn’t spared a thought for the phone in his pocket, hell; he doesn’t even feel it vibrating on silent with an abundance of texts and calls. He hasn’t looked around the coach seats to see how many other passengers are making the trip with him, he just simply sits. He sits and he sits and still his body won’t let him sleep. His eyes water through the tiredness and he jerks slightly when he felt an awareness of a whimper starting in his throat. He swallows quickly trying to fight the lump he feels rising up.

The coach travels at some speed through the twisty and winding roads, through more towns that Louis is perfectly happy to keep nameless, they’re insignificant now, and everything is. The thought of that should scare Louis but the truth is, and this is the truth, not another lie he makes up to hide how he really feels because that’s what he normally does, but the truth is nothing matters to him anymore. Maybe, maybe some things do but right now, sat on this coach staring into nothing, nothing seems to matter, and he feel anything but tired. 

And yet he can’t sleep. He still can’t find and hold onto the supposedly innate ability that is sleep. Time passes at a rate that Louis doesn’t care for. He doesn’t lift his eyes from the blurred window and he doesn’t feel the stares from the other few coach passengers; none of them seem to recognise him (why should they when most are elderly) but they stare because of the strange behaviour exuded from the young man. 

The coach pulls into a service station and the driver shouts from the front that passengers have a 30 minute break to grab some food and a toilet break before the journey commences again. It takes Louis far too long to actually realise the coach is no longer moving. He looks around himself startled; still not following what is happening when he fails to see anyone else on the coach with him. He doesn’t know what to do and so he sits, stays sitting on the coach until some time later when it begins to rattle along again, rejoining the dusty road that lies before them, each mile taking him further and further away from where he is meant to be. 

\-----------------------

“He’s still not answering, or replying, the bloody idiot. I swear when I get my hands on him he’s gonna get hit.” Niall fumes as he throws his phone at the couch watching with silent glee as it bounces hard onto the floor, it feels nice to get some of his frustration out; better on an inanimate object than a band mate like Harry Styles who has been so beside himself with worry that he almost hyperventilated and had to be taken off for calming and reassurance from Lou and Lux. Niall reflects on the scene around him, it’s still chaos, a disarray of people to-ing and fro-ing, trying their best to find out where Louis had gone. The gig that night was starting in four hours and as of the moment it seemed like One Direction would perform as a four piece. 

Members of the team have been down to the station to enquire about whether or not anyone had seen Louis but they had returned having had no luck. Now it was total mayhem and Paul was on the phone to the one and only Simon Cowell to notify him of the disappearance of one fifth of the world’s biggest band. 

Niall watches silently as Paul huffs out a long line of expletives once the phone call is drawn to an end.

“Now time to ring that boy’s mother and tell her that we’ve only gone and misplaced her one and only son.” Paul groans dreading the call he has to make, thumb already moving swiftly through his contacts in search of Jay. 

The phone call with Jay is definitely in Paul’s top ten worst ever phone calls in life. He feels like complete shit when her chirpy voice answers and he has to ruin her day with the news that Louis has vanished. He listens patiently as she explodes with a tyranny of curses and self-directed profanities, he replies quietly that they’re doing all they can to find him, he waits as she fends off the girls who seem to have sensed something is amiss with their eldest sibling and have crowded round the phone. He can’t help but feel mildly relieved when she says that she can’t possibly fly out until a week’s time because Dan is away on business and there is no one to look after the girls. 

“What about Stan… I could ask him to fly out? I know he can’t magically find Louis but I know Lou will be desperate to see him?” Jay asks and Paul agrees immediately; perhaps a friendly and familiar face from before the madness with One Direction began is exactly what Louis needs. 

“Perfect, yeah do that, listen I’ll call him now and get it all organised, I know it seems like a daft thing to say to a mother but please try not to worry Jay, we’re doing all we can and we will find him, he’s been so tired lately that he’ll probably have just fallen asleep on the coach. We’ll keep you updated so keep your phone close yeah, and we’ll let you know when we find him.” Paul tries to send a smile through the phone back home to the distressed mother in Yorkshire before the pair say their goodbyes and end the call.

Within mere minutes Paul has organised a flight out for Stan and filled the anxious young man in on the details of the events that have transpired. 

“Stan’s on his way out here so we just need to find Louis now, bring him back here and get him sorted.” Paul offers a small but tense smile to the occupants in the room. He watches for a moment as Niall tries to wrestle in between Zayn and Liam on the sofa. 

He’s interrupted by the arrival of Lou whose facial expression immediately unnerves the tour manager. 

“Harry’s found Louis’ laptop Paul and it’s not good. I think you need to come and see this.” Lou’s voice is very quiet and subdued but rings out so loudly in the midst of the disorder in the room. Paul quickly scarpers the distance separating them to join her and doesn’t even bat an eyelid when he feels the presence of three young men by their sides. 

Together the five quickly move towards Harry who is out on the tour bus, in the lounge, Louis’ laptop balance precariously on his knee, his hands hovering above the keyboard and bottom lip pulled taught between his teeth. 

“Paul, shit, right so we went on his laptop to like, I dunno, see if there was anything that could tell us where he’s going and there’s just all this stuff saved. Like loads of messages between him and people about his dad, not Mark, Troy, and then all these ones off people saying that he’s not who he pretends to be and…” Harry’s voice trails off and the laptop is pulled from his knee by Paul, who, by this point is even more concerned, not to mention completely confused.

Niall, Liam and Zayn gather round the laptop too, peering at the screen from over Paul’s shoulder, Lou is wrapped up beside Harry, his hands tugged into her own now as if she’s offering him comfort from the skin on skin contact. 

Zayn feels sick when he reads all of the posts saved to Louis’ laptop – copies of articles published in national newspapers about other bands claiming to know anything about his sexuality, stories and lies that have emblazoned front page articles about Louis’ family and home life. Zayn feels such incredible anger as he sees comments here and there about Louis’ weight (the ‘Tommo tummy’ as some have nicknamed it), he feels enraged when he reads yet more bullshit lies about how Louis is a fraud and only puts on a real front when trying to impress others and that most of the time he is mean. Zayn can’t actually read anymore and for fear of taking the computer and flinging it through the window in a fit of rage he wordlessly hauls himself from the bus as top speed. He pulls his cigarettes from his back pocket and quickly tugs one into his mouth, only releasing a small exhale when it’s finally lit. He takes a few quick drags, pulling the smoke into his airway before releasing it and watching with an almost hypnotized stare as it puffs into the air around him. Tears start to squeeze from his eyes and in a fit of anger he punches himself in the leg, bam bam bam, repeatedly until he suddenly begins to acknowledge the pain he’s inflicting upon himself. And then, it’s all he can do, he stops though and lets the cigarette drop from his mouth to the floor, little sprinklings of ash falling from the butt on the downward spiral it makes until it’s littered there, by his feet, and with a secret evil glee he watches with delight as his own foot raises and stamps on the dirty fag end. 

“Zayn, Zayn, please stop, we’ll find him and he’ll be okay, we won’t have it any other way yeah? He’s our Louis and he’ll be okay, we just have to find him.” Niall pulls the skinnier boy into his arms and rubs his back soothingly; he didn’t have to see much of Zayn’s actions to gain understanding of the turmoil the other boy felt. 

“We should have seen it though Ni. It shouldn’t have come to this; I shouldn’t have let him leave.” Zayn’s voice sounds more subdued than Niall has ever heard it before and it scares Niall so much that it’s all he can to wrap the man more tightly within his arms.

“Hey, hey, Zayn we’ll find him, he’ll be fine. I know he will, he’ll be fine.” At this point it’s unclear whether the words are supposed to comfort Zayn or Niall himself, it’s unclear whether or not they have any affect, both boys just become lost in their embrace and time moves on; ignoring the fact that the world has seemingly stopped for so many because of Louis’ disappearance. 

It’s Paul that pulls the two from their embrace when he steps down from the tour bus and puts a large firm hand on each of their shoulders. 

“Boys, I know it’s the last thing on all our minds but we do have a show tonight, I know that it’s not what any of us want right now but the fans deserve a good one despite all this. So, here’s what you lads are going to do, you’re gonna go get showered and let Lou and the others get you kitted out and hair done to make you all look like the beauties you are,” Paul sends them both a tight smile at this before continuing, “Then you’re going to do the gig, perform best you can and say that Louis’ not feeling well, then we’ll wait until all the fans leave and start looking for him again. Okay? We’ve got the next two days off and we’re going to reschedule the next week from then on anyway. I think we all need some time after this.” 

Without waiting for them to ‘ok’ the plan Paul just pats them each on the back and sets off on his way back inside, no doubt to orchestrate some more of the search activity, Niall and Zayn are both well aware however that they really don’t have a choice – they’ve been told the plan of action and they have to do as their told. 

Sighing they climb back onto the bus, rejoining Liam and Harry who are just sat side by side silently. Lou has apparently taken Louis’ laptop away so as to stop them all from torturing themselves more. 

“Go get yourselves showered boys, show starts in a few hours, it’ll all work out okay in the end.” Lou pushes them all gently off the bus and guides the group back to the hotel to get themselves washed. 

\-----------------------

Louis continues to sit on the coach as passengers disembark one by one and new passengers board, taking seats around him paying him no attention. He can’t summon the energy to take interest in where the coach is taking him, he almost doesn’t quite realise that it is in fact taking him somewhere. He hasn’t thought for a second about all that he’s left behind. Hell, he hasn’t done a lot; he’s just sat and watched through bleary eyes as the world is passing him by, street by street, person by person. 

The coach driver noticed the strange attitude of the boy instantly; as soon as he boarded the coach the driver knew that something was amiss. He couldn’t say that it happened very often but every so often, now and then, someone would board his coach and the driver had long ago learnt the look that can be found in their eyes. He shudders as he thinks about the few that have come before this boy. The male could only be late teens or early twenties, the driver muses to himself as he directs the coach along the journey. He can’t help it that his eyes seek out the mysterious boy when they look in the coach’s rear view mirror, just as he can’t help it when he notices that the boy fails to move an inch for the first four and a half hours of the journey. 

Night time falls and darkness guides it in, the sun has set and dusk has passed, the driver can’t bring himself to stifle his yawn as he sets the coach into park for the night. Stretching his aching arms from where they’ve been positioned on the large steering wheel he brings them above his head and pushes them out, twisting his hands together and forwards to try and stimulate his muscles. He rises to his feet and turns round to face the ten or so passengers that are scattered around the vehicle. 

“This is the rest stop folks, so grab any belongings you need or want to take with you, by all means you can leave them on board but please note that it is at your own risk as we can’t take responsibility for anything going missing through the night. Please know that the coach will leave here at 0800 so make sure that you’re up and ready by then.” The driver rattles off his speech like he does at the end of every day’s drive and watches vacantly as the passengers pull themselves to their feet and head into the motel that awaits their arrival. 

The driver sighs when he sees that the boy or man, he isn’t sure, fails to move or even show acknowledgement that the coach has stopped its movement. 

“Excuse me, young sir, the coach is parked here for the night, when you paid your fare you paid for an overnight stay too so if you could please grab any of your stuff you want to take with you and head on in with the other passengers.” The driver starts calling out to Louis as he approaches him but still there is no sign of acknowledgement.  
“Excuse me.” The driver sighs exasperatedly – he just wants his bed and can’t be done with this particular game tonight. He pauses, wondering whether it is safe to touch the male in front of him but decides to do so anyway, and puts his hand firmly upon the t-shirt covered shoulder ignoring the sharp jump it makes.

Louis is startled, that much is clear and he lets the panic wash out of him as he turns his head and looks straight at an unknown but somehow kind face. Louis must show some sort of questioning facial expression for the driver states what is happening and slowly but surely Louis pulls himself to his feet. He watches the driver blankly when he’s asked where his baggage is and waits for the driver to realise that he hasn’t brought anything with him except for the clothes on his back. Together the pair walk down the coach and into the dark night, their feet moving wearily and crunching over the sandy gravel that lays on the ground, neither speaking as they head into the motel. 

\-----------------------

The gig is finished and the four remaining One Direction boys are layered in a fast cooling sweat, still running off the adrenaline pumping through their veins.

“I wonder if they’ve had any luck yet.” Liam voices quietly as he passes by Zayn and ducks quickly out of the way of a leaping Niall; the Irish boy is always incredibly bouncy after a show and normally Liam humours him, but he can’t tonight. 

“I need to grab my phone but then I think we should go back down to the station; someone there must have seen him if he got one.” Harry sighed, shaking his curls and pushing them to the side in a sweeping hand motion, his hands had been shaking the whole time during the gig and it was all he could do to force himself to stay on the stage. He had wanted to flee and find his missing best friend. He’d seen the anguish growing in his eyes and he kicked himself for not helping the older man more. He’d watched the light in the blue eyes fade thanks to all of the stories in the press, all the happenings at concerts, all the people in the industry who seemed to want to tear the eldest band member down. Harry berated himself furiously for allowing it to come to this. Louis was exhausted- that much had been obvious to everyone for weeks. 

Together the four boys hurry through the corridors full of their team all in various stages of packing up the tour and hunt down Paul and the others. Lou is perched with her phone pressed to her ear, murmuring quiet words of reassurance; Zayn can’t help but wonder who she’s on the phone to at this time. He lurches down and falls the short distance to the sofa, sprawling himself out over Liam who’s on his phone already too. 

“What are you doing?” Zayn presses his chin on Liam’s warm shoulder and peers at the screen of the mobile. 

“Going on Lou’s twitter, see if anyone’s posted anything about seeing him. Surely someone will have so we just have to hope they’ll tweet about it and share with us all.” Liam murmurs, thoughtfully lowering his shoulder to stop Zayn from straining his neck so much.

“His phone’s saying that it’s turned off now, must have run out of battery.” Paul felt himself becoming more and more exasperated and tense, his muscles were tight and taught, his whole body felt on edge. “Stan’s on the flight out now so he’ll be here by morning, he’s gonna get a coach down from the airport and keep a look out for Louis. I’ve got a couple of security on their way to the airport now and we have his passport so he wouldn’t be able to get a flight but we all know that wouldn’t stop the boy from trying. I’ve sent a few of the team down the station to see if anyone’s seen him or if they have CCTV. I know that you boys want to help look for him but you know that we can’t have all of One Direction out and about frantic in public. So you’re gonna stay here, with all of us and we’re going to just keep doing all we can from here. The police have been notified but there’s nothing official being done because it’s been less than 48hours.” Paul trailed off, his voice quietening as he watched the determination sink off the remaining four fifths of One Direction’s faces. He knew they wanted to find Louis themselves but everyone was well aware that would never happen. 

“Go see some of the fans, they’ll keep you all occupied I’m sure, then come get some hot chocolate with me, Lux will probably smell it and wake up for a midnight snack with you all.” Lou smiled and gently squeezed Harry’s hand before continuing to firmly push the boys from the room towards the awaiting mass of fans.

\-----------------------

While Liam, Harry, Zayn and Niall signed their copious amounts of autographs and repeated the story about Louis being ill to the overexcited group of fans, Louis was sleeping. 

The driver sits on the coach, knowing that at 0810 he is now late. But he can’t bring himself to put his foot down, that boy, the young feathered hair one from the night before hasn’t returned to the bus and the older man feels some anguish at the idea of leaving him at the motel. He doesn’t know why and he can’t explain the feeling that is deep within his heart as he contemplates setting the coach into ‘drive’ and leaving the boy behind. Maybe, it’s his fatherly instinct, his three children are all grown up now with families of their own, his wife passed a few years back and he’s been driving these Greyhound coaches ever since. He’s always driving with the hope that he’ll find something more, something more than the knowledge of his children seemingly able to manage their own lives now without his input, of course, they still ring him and fill him in with details of their lives and jobs, but it isn’t the same. They haven’t needed him since they were teenagers. So ever since his wife lost her battle with cancer he has followed the roads laid out before him, setting off each day with hope gleaming in his eyes, waiting and wishing for something to justify the pain that continues to plague his heart. 

0820 and passengers are becoming restless- stating that they dragged themselves from the warm confines of their bed, knowing the coach would leave at 0800, all of them enquiring about whether there is a problem with the coach. The driver takes the easy way out and claims that, yes, there is a problem with the coach but he should be able to fix it; he just needs to pop back into the motel. Pulling the keys from the ignition where he’d idly left them 20 minutes ago he quickly climbs the few steps down from the coach and hurries into the motel – asking the receptionist for the room number of the small slight man that had been the last one to arrive the previous night. She gives it to him with a bored smile and he proceeds to hurry quickly through the maze of passageways in the motel until he finds himself knocking on the door of room 94. He knocks before he allows his mind time to wonder just what the hell he’s doing.  
He can hear shuffling feet from with in and it only takes a minute or two for the door to be pulled open; revealing an exhausted face littered with a small growth of stubble. 

“Do I need to leave?” The younger man’s voice is more tired than it should be for a kid of his age the driver muses. The thought grows within the drivers mind as he takes in the face before him properly for the first time – it had been too dark the night before for a good look at the boy and the driver had been too tired to notice the world weary tone of voice. But now, looking at the way the youngster is stooping low and hugging his arms around him weakly the driver knows that he hasn’t made a mistake – he’s glad that he came back to find this one. 

“No son, not if you don’t want to, but, I’m the driver of the Greyhound you got here yesterday and you paid a full fare, we’re setting off shortly and I couldn’t help but notice you weren’t on board, so I suppose I’m just here to see if you want to stay here or continue on?” The driver can tell from the blank look in the eyes before him that the boy or man, he’s still unsure of the male’s age, hasn’t really taken in a word of what’s been said.

“Why not.” Is the only reply that comes and Louis walks straight out the door, pushing gently by the drivers shoulder and not stopping to collect any belongings from the motel room. 

Together the pair climb on to the bus, the driver ignoring the harsh stares from the other passengers that were now 30 minutes later than expected and setting the bus into motion finally, Louis on the other hand doesn’t even notice the looks he gets from the rest of the passengers and simply retreats down the aisle and resumes sitting at his seat from the day before. He once again presses his forehead to the glass window at his side, almost, almost revelling in its familiarity, the window, such a simple thing had been a constant to him the day before and it was kind of a comfort to have it there beside him once more. He hadn’t found sleep again that night; he’d watched the time tick on by on his watch, anger and frustration gripping him tighter and tighter with each passing minute until he couldn’t bare it anymore. He looks down at the watch mark that’s slowly fading from the skin on his wrist- he doesn’t have to worry about time anymore, his phone battery is dead (he’d only noticed that this morning as he went to answer the door to the coach driver) and he’d already abandoned his expensive watch on the bedside table. He doesn’t care for the knowledge of time anymore, it’s just another cold miserable reminder of yet another thing he has no control over. 

Yet again the coach’s tyres roll along the bumpy road and for the second time in two days Louis pays no heed to his destination, uncaring and unresponsive to the fact that each mile the coach travels is another mile separating him from home.


	2. Chapter 2

Stan feels the heat hit him as he disembarks the plane and lowers his sunglasses from where they’ve been resting on his head, they cover his eyes and he can see now; he can see the haze swirl in the air in front of the plane’s engines as they cool. He realises that he’s holding up the queue of passengers and sets off at a slow jog down the flight of steps, passes by the stewards with a weak smile and proceeds through passport control. He’s tense, can feel the worry pulse through him, he holds the passport loosely in his hand and bats it against his leg, other knee bopping along to some unknown beat in his head. Finally, although given the small queue before him, it must just be a matter of minutes; he’s passing through the inspection and continues onwards to collect his luggage. One small suitcase that he’d flung random clothes into as soon as he’d received the call from Paul. He knows he can borrow anything he needs from the mass of people on tour with One Direction – God he’d borrowed Niall’s t-shirt just two days after meeting him for the first time when he’d spilt fizzy pop down himself when he’d visited the X Factor house. 

Suitcase in tow and he’s out, leaving the airport, he can see the coaches where they’re waiting for passengers to board, and he heads straight over to find the one he needs. Shades on, luggage stowed underneath; he pulls out his iPhone and dials the familiar number of his best friend’s childhood home. He doesn’t have to wait long for the call to connect and Jay’s recognizable voice greets him; he can hear the worry in her voice. 

“Hey Jay, I just wanted to let you know that I’ve landed and on my way down to meet them, it should take me 9 hours to get there with this coach, there’s a stop off enroute but I’ll ask Paul what he wants me to do, he mentioned something about some of security looking into the CCTV of Louis at the station.” Stan idly picks a loose thread from his shorts and looks out of the window at the scenery that’s now passing him by. 

“Thank you Stan. I’m glad you got there safe; I hope your flight was okay. Thank you for doing this, Louis’ not been himself lately, I wish I’d bloody done something but I just didn’t foresee any of this happening.” The anguish in Jay’s voice is evident to Stan who cuts her off before she works herself into any more panic.

“Love, it’s fine, you and me both know Louis will be alright; he’s just a drama queen! And don’t be daft, you don’t have to thank me, he’s my best mate and I’d do anything for him.” Stan smiles affectionately, it lights his eyes as he thinks about Louis and how much he dotes upon his best partner in crime. 

“Well, I don’t tell you enough how much I appreciate you being in his life, you’ve stuck with him through all of the mayhem and I know it means the world to him to know that he has you by his side throughout it all.” Jay’s voice tapers off at the end and Stan can hear the tears that she wants to let go of.

“Jay, he’ll be okay, he just needs a break I guess, keep your phone on and I’ll call you when I’ve spoken to Paul in a bit yeah?” Stan feels emotion bubbling through him; this phone call wasn’t supposed to lead both callers to tears and he wants to draw the conversation to a close before he starts blubbering in public. 

They say their goodbyes and the call ends, Stan lowers his phone with a slightly shaking hand and scrubs his face roughly with the other; trying to keep his tears at bay, and if he sniffles a few times, there’s no one there drawing attention to it. 

He takes his time to pull himself together, knowing that getting emotional won’t help the situation, and then calls Paul to tell him that he’s on the coach. 

\-----------------------

“That was Stan, he’s landed and on the coach, told him to head straight here to meet us but keep his eyes peeled for any sight of Louis.” Paul tells the assembled group of people; several hours have passed since the remaining four band members had gone to bed after signing things for waiting fans. They’d all tried to digest some sort of breakfast at Lou’s motherly insistence but now, they were just waiting, waiting for security to finish working their way through a collection of CCTV recordings just doled out to them by a seemingly uninterested receptionist over at the coach station.

Harry’s been on the phone to Nick for the past half an hour or so, they’ve become close friends since the whole X Factor thing and managed to develop their friendship when Harry briefly dated Caroline Flack. Harry enjoyed being with Flack but neither were too invested in the relationship – they soon enough realised that they were better as friends and this mean they could continue to hang out with other mutual friends; thus strengthening Harry’s friendship with the Radio 1 Breakfast show DJ. They’d all found it hilarious in the beginning, back when tabloids were first reporting that Styles and Grimmy were actually dating, but, just as it had with the whole ‘Larry Stylinson’ debacle, the pair could sense their growing friendship being threatened and so, decided to just ignore it. Harry had explained to Grimmy that he and Louis’ relationship had become unsteady for a short time while they both tried to deal with their new found fame and budding friendship, as well as coming to terms with their growing feelings for one another, all the while being forced by society and management to deny their true feelings. It was all a big complicated mess for a while, Harry reflects and he can’t help but halt whatever Grimmy is currently blabbering on about to tell him, “I’m glad we’re friends Grim.” Harry can tell that Grimmy’s puzzled by what’s brought this on – he’s not in Harry’s head (thank the lord Grimmy muses,) and ignores the snort that he hears from within the phone. 

“I’m being serious Grimmy, I don’t say it enough but thank you for not running away from all the shit that follows me, like, I don’t think I’ve actually ever thanked you for taking the time to get to know the others; I know Lou wasn’t the easiest in the beginning but he likes you now.” Harry’s voice is dawdled as always and Nick takes the times to lazily doodle while he listens to his friend apparently applaud him for what he would sum up as merely being a half decent mate to a famous pop star. He can’t help but snort again when young Tomlinson is mentioned, it’s true – they hadn’t clicked with one another in the beginning unlike Harry and Grimmy. But, from Harry forcing them all together so frequently they had become to develop their own strengthening friendship and whilst both Louis and Grimmy are sarcastic souls that love to snipe and bicker, they are both secretly pleased and proud of themselves every time they catch Harry smiling in the direction of their friendship. 

“Don’t be daft Harry, I have to do all I can to keep you on my side; you’d never believe me if I told you about the amount of fit men that want to know me now they know that I have you on speed dial.” Grimmy’s voice is amused when it floats into Harry’s ear and he willingly takes the banter to get them away from the seriousness he’d instilled in their conversation. 

They continue to exchange random snippets of their lives and Harry enjoys the way that it allows him to ease the tension he feels from the way he’s been straining his muscles with stress over Louis’ disappearance. Eventually though he realises that he’s going to need to return to reality soon; he can vaguely hear Paul conversing with the others and he hears Stan’s name mentioned a few times. So he begins to wrap up the call, telling Grimmy that he’ll keep him updated with any news of their missing friend and once again, even though he knows it’s not warranted, sending him a thank you and a large ridiculous smacking kiss before chuckling and watching the call disconnect; signalling Grimmy putting the phone down on him. 

\-----------------------

Louis’ pretty sure that he’s seen the whole world blur passed him by this point and he wriggles slightly in his seat, becoming aware of his numb behind, a result of sitting in the same seat for however many hours. Louis continues to rest his head against the window and so he misses the looks he’s receiving from the woman who’s gradually, slowly but very surely, been moving her way along the coach until she’s now sat one row back on the opposite row of seats. He fails to see the dark gleam in her eyes and she eyes him up whilst writing to some unknown contact in her phone. 

The woman sneers to herself as she continues to sift through Google searches of Louis Tomlinson; she’d recognised the famous singer star as soon as she’d boarded the coach and she’s seen that look in his eyes before. Hell, she revels in that look; she’s spent years trying to cultivate that very same look in the eyes of others. But this, this boy is a new challenge and if there’s one thing this woman enjoys, it’s a challenge. Whilst making her way closer to him, as inconspicuously as she possibly could, she’s been taking a few photos of Louis. She’s collected quite the folder and sends them in an email to her contact; her partner in crime, she doesn’t like to think of it as crime though, merely just entertainment, sometimes a challenge, always a pleasure. She releases a very quiet squeal of joy when her contact replies saying he’s ready and waiting. She’s excited now, the plan is in motion, the usual plan as it’s never failed them before. She can’t help her eyes moving back, instinctively, to her prey; Louis Tomlinson the world famous singer, the most vulnerable looking person she’s seen in a long, long while. Continuing to secretly smile and jump with joy at the plans she allows herself to keep flickering her eyes over to the young man across from her and settles further into her seat to pass the time until the coach stops…

\-----------------------

The coach pulls into the petrol station and the woman lifts herself off her seat stumbling into the aisle startling Louis when she falls into his lap. Instinctive reflexs kick in and he manages to shove his arms out in an attempt to catch her- he’s successful and mumbles a weak “Are you okay?” He tries to yell for help but his voice is ruined from lack of speech and all of the tears he’s swallowed back, the passengers closest to him are asleep and the driver has already exited to refuel. He tries to shout again when the woman doesn’t make any effort to move. This time he spies a few passengers glancing over at the scene quickly before darting their eyes away in feign obliviousness. It seems to Louis, when he catches the look in one scruffy looking man’s eyes that the other passengers, they don’t need to get themselves caught up in a situation like this. This woman, the one lying in Louis’ arms is nothing to them, this doesn’t concern them and they must have other things on their minds… Other things in their own lives to contend with, never mind this woman that’s just dropped from her feet. 

‘She sure don’t look dead’ thinks a passenger who’s turned away from Louis. 

‘She sure don’t smell dead son, so I’d put her down if I were you, you don’t know where she’s been.’ The American hillbilly style drawl scares Louis when he hears it over his right ear and he can feel the stank breath linger on his ear. It makes the short hairs on his neck rise up and sends a cascade of shivers down his spine. Louis dares to look from the very corner of his eyes, just once, to see who the voice belongs to; it’s an old man. His teeth are rotting, some have fallen loose from his mouth, his hair is long and very unkempt. Louis thinks that he’s exactly the type of man that those American horror classics are based on – the ones where they kidnap some poor traveller and dismember them in a cabin. 

Louis almost expels a whimper and quickly shakes his head visciously as if trying to physical fling the horrid thoughts from his mind. 

He asks the woman once more if she can hear him, he shakes her roughly by her shoulders and suddenly, her eyelids begin to flicker. Louis sends a thank you to whatever deity seems to have actually been looking out for him for once before concentrating on the words tumbling from the woman’s lips. 

She wants water but he has none to give. She says she has a friend waiting for her at a petrol station; she thinks it’s the next stop, but asks Louis where they are. Louis replies, his vow still low and raspy, that they are in fact parked up at a petrol station and he assumes this is where her friend is. She affirms and says that she needs to leave the coach; but she doesn’t have the energy…Can he help her? So, being the kind soul that he is and one unable to ever turn down someone he thinks could use some help in life, he agrees, lifts her up as much as he can given his own weak state and together they manage to haul themselves from the coach. Not once it dawn on him that they had already arrived at the petrol station before she collapsed… 

The bright light of day momentarily blinds Louis and he stumbles, manages to catch himself but raises his free arm (the other is trying to support the woman at his side) and holds it over his eyes, covering them from the harsh glare of the hot sun. He hears a car approaching at some speed in front of him and confusion swarms him when, suddenly, the woman whose health was waning just mere moments ago miraculously stands on her own two feet. She breathes out a single laugh that makes Louis feel ice cold. 

The next thing he’s aware of is a feeling of something pricking his neck, if Louis were a betting man he’d swear it was the jab of a needle, he’s had enough vaccinations with the travelling he doesn’t in his work to know the scratch that occurs as the needle pierces the skin. The overwhelming desire he has for sleep, the haze of the sun, the fear of what’s happening make the movements his body is forced through a blur. He half hears a gruff, droll voice tell a “bitch to hurry the fuck up.” 

And then, once all of that is over, he no longer feels or knows of anything. Louis Tomlinson is almost free…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments, kudos and bookmark!!! :))))) Sorry this chapter is a bit later that I suggested it might be - real life is a pain! Sorry about the cliffhanger... I'll update this weekend, promise! Would love to know what you think but I just hope you enjoy... Thanks for readinggggggg!!!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is kind of dark, there's nothing too bad but please be warned. I'm never too sure about ratings so please let me know if you think I should alter it - I don't want any readers to be uncomfortable and as I haven't written the rest of the story I can't predict what my writing devil will tell me to write...

Paul takes Stan’s case from him as soon as he greets him and together they board the tour bus. Stan is immediately welcomed by the rest of the boys and they all share hugs. Their current plan of action is to simply drive around and hope that they either find Louis or come across something that will give them a better indication of which direction he may have taken. 

The CCTV has shown that Louis bought a ticket that can be used coach journey but the problem is that it isn’t limited to a specific journey. It’s almost an open ticket, used on any coach but once a coach has been chosen the ticket will continue to apply for that specific one. The next problem is that the footage does not show which coach Louis boarded; so they haven’t learnt anything new. 

The tour bus starts its engine and sets off, following a jumble of different roads, there’s no particular route – they just want to cover as much ground as they can. 

Stan sits himself down beside Zayn and Niall who are embroiled in a loud and yet, still seeming half hearted, game of Fifa. Harry comes into the lounge to join them and his body collapses next to Stan, almost on top of him really. Without giving it any though Stan pulls Harry into his body and they stay with their arms loosely wrapped around one another with the sounds of football drifting into their ears. Stan is no Louis, that’s for sure Harry thinks, the feel of the body wrapped tightly into his side is all wrong; the angles of it, the curves, the smell and most importantly, the feeling of completeness doesn’t overwhelm him as it does when he’s tugged into Louis. But still, Stan is close enough to do for now, Stan has been Louis’ best friend longer than Harry. Harry loves Stan as his own friend and he greatly appreciates the fact that Stan has stayed with Louis through the madness of their One Direction lifestyles. So Harry seeks some comfort from the presence of Stan and his eye lids begin to close rapidly but he keeps trying to force them back up each time; determined not to fall asleep. Falling asleep means closing his eyes and with his eyes closed there’s absolutely no way that he’s spot Louis out of the tour bus window. But Harry’s body needs sleep and as if Stan knows this, (which he does from the way that he’s been watching the younger boy,) an arm moves from Harry’s shoulder until the hand of it settles on the middle of Harry’s back. Slowly it moves in small, calming circles. This relaxing action combined with the soft hummed murmurings and hushing sounds emanating from Stan’s mouth sooth Harry to his very soul and he soon loses his fight against sleep.

\-----------------------

Louis wakes up to find his head swimming with disorientation and overwhelming dizziness. It builds up inside of him until he almost wants to vomit. His head hurts as if someone has struck him with a blunt object and it makes his mouth feel dry like cotton wool. He tries to raise himself up to take a look at his surroundings, his memory is fuzzy and he can’t recall anything other than being on board the coach. His neck is straining as he tries again to lift himself up from where he’s lying down. Still he can’t move far; he’s weak. He tries to wipe his mouth to stimulate some flow of saliva to overcome the horrible dry feeling but he can’t; his hands won’t move. He turns his head sloppily and dread and alarm fill him when he glimpses the cuff and chain that links him to the bed frame upon which he is sprawled. He turns his head quickly and swallows once, twice, and once more, to try and keep the nausea at bay. His other arm is fixed in the same way and when he strains his neck, determined to see the state of his ankles, he grunts from the exertion. With dismay his head flops back to the dirty pillow; his ankles are indeed predictably restrained as well. There’s no room for movement as Louis has already discovered and this only makes Louis feel crushing trepidation. He lies there and knows that his breathing is becoming more and more rapid, his heart is beating faster and faster, his chest rises quicker and quicker until he can see it from the bottom of his eyes with his body and head laid flat. A low whine rolls from his throat. It develops into a wail that gets louder and louder. Tears clump at the tear ducts in his azure eyes, unable to roll due to the position of his head, until there are too many and they burst free. They roll along his sunken and pale cheeks and fall pathetically, some dribble along his ears and he wants to wipe them away but he can’t because his arms won’t move. They won’t move and he panics. The wail changes in volume until it’s all just howling and the pumping of blood and fear screaming in his ears, filling his mind. He doesn’t notice the door of the small room he’s in being unlocked and opened. He doesn’t notice the woman from the coach entering with a syringe in her hand and a mad smile gleaming on her face. His mind is too full of panic and terror to notice that he’s now hyperventilating. 

Louis’ scared. For the first time in far too long he’s actually feeling something. He’d craved for a feeling to combat the numbness that he’s been encased in. Not so long ago he dreamt of being full of a feeling as strong as this; he’s had a desperation for something to prove to him that he’s still alive; that he actually has something to live for and something to make the fight worthwhile. But not this; no, this feeling that’s filling him full right now is the last thing he truly wanted. The horrid feeling that he’s so overwhelmed with is not what he wanted. It’s like a monster from the darkest underworld growing inside him and it consumes it. It’s all white noise in his eardrums beating and thumping. He once again barely feels the nick of the needle as it sinks into his skin but this time, this time it’s different. This time he welcomes it once he’s felt it, this time he relishes the feeling that it brings and so, a weak smiles forms on his lips, offered up to the woman above him. She grins manically down at him and watches him welcome the emptiness of his unconscious mind.

\-----------------------

Paul enters the lounge to find the five young men all sleeping, bodies sprawled close to each other, legs and arms flung haphazardly across one another. He doesn’t want to wake them all up but he’s just received a phone call from Simon Cowell himself seeking an update on the missing Louis situation. He has been told to ask the boys to all start tweeting as there is some internet articles creating the suggestion that there is something more sinister going on that just an illness. Fans have started creating an array of theories about Louis’ absence at the gig the previous night, some of these theories are believable and some are certainly not. It created a severely unsettling and bitter sinking feeling in Paul’s chest however when Simon directed him to a page that had guessed Louis’ absence spot-on. This fan had written that Louis had left the band seeking solace by himself as he had become increasingly withdrawn and haggard looking of late. Simon wanted to dispel anymore rumours and knew that the boys had access to Louis’ twitter. He wants them to tweet each other randomly about things that they are doing to try and convince people that nothing serious has happened. 

Paul is just about to wake the boys up when he realises that he can’t; they need sleep nearly as bad as Louis does. So he gently brushes past them and takes a sheet of paper and a sharpie that are on the table, writes a note asking the boys to tweet as soon as they wake up, and then heads back down to join the driver. 

Zayn wakes up to hear the ringing of his phone and he gropes blindly for it, lifting his arm and batting around without opening his eyes. He does open his eyes though when a voice tells him to “fuck off” and then he realises that he’s just smacked Liam in the crotch. This makes him snort out a laugh and Liam raises his head to face him with one very grumpy eyebrow raised. Zayn ignores this and continues his quest to find his phone which is ringing incessantly and becoming increasingly irritating. However, it continues to evade his searching hand and just as he thinks he will not find in time to answer the call he hears a muffled curse and then his own mobile phone whacks him on the forehead.

“Fucking hell, what, OW!” Zayn rubs his head which is probably going to get a really stupid bruise on it now thanks to whichever idiot thought that was an appropriate way of dealing with a phone call. He quickly threatens the unknown culprit with a promise that torture awaits them but turns his concentration to the phone in his hand, pressing the answer button hurriedly before it rings out. 

Niall covers his ears and ignores the threat, knowing that Zayn will not really inflict any harm upon him and tries to go back to sleep. He can’t. All he can hear is Zayn’s voice gradually getting more short signalling that he’s getting stressed about something. Niall tells himself that it’s just about Louis which is obviously stressful but not news. So he doubles his efforts to recapture sleep and dumps his other arm over his ears too. 

\-----------------------

Louis returns to consciousness and takes a couple of minutes to allow himself time to try and understand the events leading up to this moment. The last full intact memory he has is of the woman falling on him on the coach, after that there are just blurred images and flashes, almost like an old roll of movie from the 50’s where the pictures flicker at the edges. Louis’ brain takes time to think about the woman but very quickly he gets an unsettles feeling in his gut and he knows that if he doesn’t get away from that thought then he’s going to get the frightened feeling he remembers having recently. He takes a shuddering collection of breathes, trying to keep himself calm, and then he opens his eyes. His eyelashes are stuck together with crusty sleep, he knows that’s the results of the leftover tears from his panic attack before, the one that he can barely remember having but the feeling hasn’t left him. It sits deep in his gut and aches painfully. 

Eventually he pries his eyelashes apart and takes a look around him. It’s blurry so he blinks a few times in quick succession to try and clear his vision. He sees and feels that now he’s sat upright rather than laid down as he was earlier, his arms are pulled taught behind his back straining over the back of the chair and when he tries to separate them he can’t. His ankles are separated and he’s not able to move them so he guesses that they must be tied to chair legs. He closes his eyes quickly and desperately tries to control the rising fear threatening to take over him. He opens his eyes again, this time to try and see what’s around him, if there’s anything that can show to him why he’s in this predicament. He finds nothing. It’s a bare room; besides the chair he’s sat on. There’s a light above him that he can see when he tilts his head back, just a bulb swinging on a piece of that electric cable; there’s no light shade to offer any remote comfort. The room is dirty but he can’t see any massive cobwebs or hear scurrying rats and this pleases him a little. 

He’s unsure of how long he sits bound to the chair in an empty room but at some point he hears the haunting sound of approaching footsteps; loud boots clomping on the wooden floor boards. They stop on the other side of the door and Louis holds his breath. He hears the door handle move and he watches with uneasiness as the door is pushed open. 

“Drink.” A man wearing scruffy clothes and stinking of alcohol stands in front of him now, peering down through eyes that send chills through Louis. In Louis’ mind they look like the type of eyes that have watched animals get slaughtered and children get beaten. A glass of murky stale water is thrust in Louis’ face and he hesitates. As much as he’s thirsty he’s not prepared to drink this.

“Wha’?” Louis’ voice is weak and his throat is parched but the word is decipherable and loud enough for his own ears to play it back so the man before him must hear. 

But the man does not answer. He just continues to hold the glass aloft, wavering it in front of Louis’ face as if waiting for the boy to part his lips and accept the cloudy water. Louis’ lips do not part and the man becomes angry, the water is thrown in his face drenching his hair and running down his neck. The glass is then smashed on the base of the chair, just mere inches away from Louis’ thighs that rest there. Shards of broken glass explode across the floor and some bounce and lay to rest in the cracks between floorboards. The man collects the biggest shard and smiles grimly down at the boy bound in front of him, holds it in front of his face and sneers when terror fills the blue eyes peering back at him, he rests the shard on the sunken cheek watching the blue flicker to it. With one final smile that extends the full width of his cheeks and shows off his foul teeth he raises it and lays it to rest on top of Louis’ wet scalp. Then he leaves as speechlessly as he came. 

Louis can’t move, he’s frozen and his brain is replaying what just happened on a loop. He feels the dangerous weight of broken glass on his head and tries to decide what to do, he could risk shaking his head quickly and hoping that it fell to the floor. Or he could just stay sitting and not move, remain in the exact same position until hopefully the man will appear and remove it. 

Before he can really make a decision he hears lighter footsteps approaching. He can’t focus on the door because of the position that his head is trapped in but he sees skinny legs getting closer until they’re right in front of him. He then looks up as much as he can without moving his head and sees the woman from the coach.

“Louis Tomlinson, the pleasure is all mine.” The woman wipes her hand along his cheekbone and Louis is desperate to shirk away from her touch but he fears the glass shard that is laid on his hair.

Her face looms right in front of his and he stifles a whimper when her dry lips connect with his. He can feel the muscles in her cheeks move and he’s sure that she’s smiling as she does it which makes him feel even more violated. He presses his lips firmly together ensuring that she can’t gain access to his mouth. Dismay takes a hold of him when her other hand, the one not rubbing along his cheekbone, moves into his hair and plays with the chestnut locks that he knows are resting near the piece of glass. He feels her hand stroke around the shard and he whimpers again. After what feels like a lifetime has passed she removes her hand from his hair and he almost exhales a deep sigh of relief when he feels the shard removed as well; but he stops himself because that would mean that he’d open his mouth. And her lips are still touching his. 

Her lips press one more final lingering kiss to his and then they retreat. Once Louis is sure that she’s no longer touching him he lets his eyes close and takes a few strong breaths to keep himself together instead of bursting into tears like he desperately wants to. 

“Mmm, just like I imagined.” The woman is still smiling as she looks at him and Louis shuts his eyes again quickly to escape her gaze. 

“Come on now Lou Lou, don’t be shy, you’re not shy, I know you’re not. You’re loud and bouncy. Bouncy Louis.” The woman smirks at him and separates her legs to straddle his lap. Louis’ body is pushed back so that it’s tightly trapped between the mad lady and the back of the chair. Their faces are pressed even closer together and when Louis pulls his back as far as he can she follows with her own. She wriggles in his lap, her behind settled right over his trouser covered crotch and Louis whimpers. The glass is still held in her hand and is now lightly caressing his bound arm. She shuffles forward even more even though so she’s flush against his chest and tilts her face to the side. Releasing a manic laugh she rushes her mouth forward and licks from his forehead to his chin, saliva sticks dirtily to his skin and Louis once again fights the urge to be sick. Her hand which isn’t gripping the glass skirts along his chest and rests on his left nipple. She gives it a squeeze and grinds a little and then Louis is humiliated to find his boxers quickly becoming wet. The smell of his own urine fills his noise and he can’t help but sob loudly. The witch takes this as her opportunity and presses her tongue into his mouth whilst it’s releasing the choked cry. Licking her way round his mouth until she’s had her full Louis can do nothing but tremble. 

“I’ve waited a very long time for this Lou Lou. It’s been a long time since I last had a play thing so pretty as you. You’re going to be very happy here.” The witch pecks one last kiss to Louis’ temple and then clambers off his lap. 

Louis has his eyes pressed firmly shut, he doesn’t want to look at the disgusting woman stood before him and he certainly doesn’t want to look down to see where he’s wet himself like an untoilet trained toddler. His ears are filled with the sounds of her footsteps walking away from him and he takes a moment of pleasure from the relief that he feels with her departure. It’s soon broken though when he hears them returning. His eyes are still clenched shut so he doesn’t see the cloth being doused with a liquid. It’s only when the smell of chloroform fills his nostrils that the hairs on his arms and neck rise up in warning and he begins debating about opening his eyes. He decides not to, he definitely doesn’t want to have to watch anything else happen; he’ll keep his eyes firmly pressed shut and try to block it all out. With his arms and legs restrained and his sense of sight removed Louis has no chance against the cloth she covers over his nose and mouth. 

\-----------------------

 

Zayn’s been off the phone from Perrie for over an hour now and still his anger hasn’t faded. He’s not angry with her. He’s angry with what she had to say, no scratch that, he’s incensed with what she told him. The press have been hounding Louis’ childhood home and his sisters have been asked all sorts of questions regarding the disappearance of their brother. Louis had introduced Lottie and Perrie to one another when the band were first formed and the two had become fast friends but didn’t see each other very often. Zayn and Louis both knew that the two girls text each other sometimes and they liked the fact they got along with each other so well. It still came as a surprise to Perrie though when she received the call from Lottie to say that she’d been hurt on her way home from school. A group of girls had apparently heard that Louis was missing and had hunted down Lottie to say that they were glad and that they hoped that it meant Louis was leaving the band because he was the weakest singer. Lottie had tried to ignore them; despite how much she wanted to defend her brother she knew that it wasn’t the best idea to take on a group of older girls. The girls had pushed her about a bit and she was shaken from it so she’d called the first person she thought of. She knew she couldn’t tell her mum because she was already so stressed about Louis. She couldn’t tell Louis because he was missing and she felt like she couldn’t worry anyone else with how she was feeling. So she dialled Perrie who’d looked at her phone with surprise but answered quickly.

Zayn’s been staring at his phone ever since he and Perrie ended the call. Perrie told him she didn’t want Lottie to know she’d told him but she wanted the boys to know it had happened. 

Everyone is furious with the news, none more so than Stan and Harry though, both of whom consider Lottie family. 

“She’s okay, just shaken up apparently.” The words tumble from Zayn’s mouth as they all try and process what they’ve been told. 

“Where’s Perrie at the minute? Like can she get to Donny anytime?” Stan asks, any trace of sleep completely wiped from his face, his eyes are alive with the spark of determination and fight. 

“Nah, she’s in London and they’ve got their video shoot this week so there’s no time for her to go up there.” Zayn’s subdued, as was Perrie even though he’d tried to offer her comfort about the fact she couldn’t go and see Lottie to make sure she really is okay like she claims to be. 

“I’ll ring Danni, I dunno what her plans are but it’s worth a try.” Liam and Danielle keep in touch despite their relationship ending – they do share custody of a dog so they’ve had to try and be adult in the wake of their break-up.

Liam wanders off to call her and the others are left to sit around and let worry fill their minds; they can’t help but think that this is only the start


	4. Chapter 4

The coach driver settles himself down, the worn leather sit indented familiarly to his shape; this has been his home for longer than he cares to acknowledge. His wife and he started their relationship here, raised their family here and watched their children grow and move on to having families of their own. Pets were loved and lost here and Charles Miller lets out a saddened sigh when he thinks about his life back then and compares it to his life now. 

He knows that old cliché about it being better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. But in many ways he hates that phrase, he can’t help but think that it was created by some bitter fool who had never known love at all. For when your heart longs for someone else, someone that you’ve happened upon in the wide world, someone who you fall in love with a little more every day; you don’t ever want to give that up. As much as that person fills your heart and soul, and as much as you know that no presence as strong as that one can ever truly fade, the space left behind when they’re gone is devastating. It crushes the very being form someone and Charles lost his way for a time; his children had to struggle along themselves for a while because he lost himself in a world where his beloved no longer existed and he craved the same path. 

Now though, as he looks around him, he finds himself smiling; looking upon the photographs of memories of times that he will forever hold dear to his heart. 

He holds the mobile phone in his hand; it had been abandoned on the coach and it seems that it had gone unnoticed by all until he did his usual obligatory end of journey inspection. He remembers the boy who was sat at the seat where the phone was strewn; he remembers the look in his eyes and he almost feels the ache is his own heart. 

The phone is dead; battery long since dead. Charles knows he must have a charger around here somewhere that will fit it; with the amount of phones his children and grandchildren have had he’d be confident enough to bet on it. 

But he isn’t sure he should. For one, it’s none of his business, he knows better than to intrude on that which does not concern him. Secondly, whatever the reason for the dead look in that young man’s eyes, the reason and answer probably lays in the knowledge of this very phone and that’s something that Charles hopes he never discovers. The look in his eyes had been one of pain and suffering and Charles was once far too familiar with that; he thinks he never wants to have to witness it again. But it’s that reason, that same precise reason that makes Charles think he should turn the phone on. Maybe he can help the boy somehow, even though the boy is long gone. 

Charles had not seen him exit the bus and he thought that he was a passenger that was a sure bet until they reached the end of the road. Something must have happened to make him get off at the petrol station and maybe, just maybe, the answer lies in Charles’ palm.

He mulls it over, decides that he can deliberate more once he’s found a charger so he sets about trying to hunt down the elusive cable, trying to put the thoughts of the young man to the back of his mind.  
\-----------------------   
Stan watches as the boys’ type out more tweets, each one has mentioned about enjoying their day off before the next night’s gig. Liam is switching between twitter and texting Danielle; she’s been able to go and see Lottie and is now filling Liam in on what happened. 

Harry’s still curled up in Stan’s side and Niall is swigging beer from a bottle clutched in his hand. Stan can see the sweat of water running down the side of the bottle in the heat and he feels his own sweat clumping and forming drifts at his hairline. The heat is sweltering and they have the windows open on the bus to try and ease it.

Stan, looking for something to do and occupy himself while the boys follow their managements orders, pulls his own phone from his pocket and tries calling Louis’ mobile once more. Unsurprisingly it rings out, heading straight to voicemail. He hasn’t left one in a while, thinking that Louis would call him back if he could, but he changes his mind now. He decides that there is nothing to be lost by leaving a voicemail, so he does.

“Hey Lou it’s me, Stan,” As he says this the boys’ heads all shoot up, they must think that Louis has actually answered the call and it virtually sends a rip straight through Stan’s heart when he bursts their bubbles with a shake of his head.

Niall takes a long drag of his beer as he turns his defeated gaze away from Stan. 

“Mate, everyone’s just worried about you ‘cos you left without saying anything, you’re not in any trouble Lou. We just need to know that you’re okay. That’s the main thing here, that you’re okay, look, whatever it is can be fixed yeah?” Stan’s speaking into the phone trying his hardest to try and make his voice light and not show the true extent of the stress that he’s feeling, that they’re all feeling. He doesn’t want Louis to know that he’s stressed them all out on top of everything else he’s feeling but it’s impossible to not let it be heard in his voice. 

“Just give me or one of the boys or your mum a call please when you get this, yeah? Love you mate. Take care of yourself…” Stan does not know the proper etiquette to ending a phone call to a missing best friend who is a world famous and world weary pop star, so he lets his voice trail off until he realises that he’s still connected and all he’s doing is sending sad exhales of air down the line. He sighs once and then clicks it off. 

“Danni said Lottie’s just shaken up, apparently Daisy and Phoebe are staying with Mark while Louis’ missing so it’s just her and Félicité with Jay. Apparently the girls didn’t touch her but I just can’t believe there’s fucking people out there like that y’know? It’s unreal; everything that that family’s been through and people are starting things in the streets with his little sisters.” Liam is tense; they can all see that, the way his muscles are taught and the veins are protruding slightly in his neck.

Just as Zayn opens his mouth to agree Paul enters the room and flops down heavily beside them on the couch.

“We’re headed to a motel near here, we’re gonna get some rooms and then we’ll drive around some more tomorrow before the gig.” He scuffs a large hand over his face, pulling his skin down slightly with the movement. His eyes are bloodshot and he’s as desperate for sleep as the rest of them are. 

Nobody speaks much during the short time it takes for them to pull up in the motel car park, they just continue to play Fifa and try their best not to dwell on the absence of Louis. 

Liam hops from the bus, the air is cooling around him; the sun is lowering in the sky, but Liam takes no time to appreciate the beauty of the pink orange sky that glows before him. There are a few birds chirping here and there in the trees that scatter the car park, but he takes no time to value those either. He’s had an idea developing in the back of his mind for a while now, it occupied him on the tour bus when everyone else was playing Xbox, and it continued to consume him now. He was mulling it over and deciding whether or not is was a possibility, reasoning with himself that it was worth a shot no matter how slim the chances, and all of a sudden felt his body jar forwards as a blonde whizzed by him. He would have fallen to the floor had it not been for Harry. Harry who has looked so completely dead on his feet ever since Louis went missing, hell, he was dead on his feet with worry even before Louis went missing. The usual sprinkle of glittering joy has been missing from those green eyes for far too long and Liam feels guilty; he knows that they’ve all been trying to help Louis, lessen his worries and try to make him sleep and generally feel better, but they hadn’t noticed Harry. Harry who always puts so much effort into making sure that other people are okay, Harry always says that the one thing he loves about Louis is the effortless way he can inflict happiness on anyone, they all agree. But Liam knows the thing he loves most about Harry; the way the younger boy puts others before himself every single fucking time. And this is a prime example of that; the ball of electric whizzing energy that is Niall (Liam doesn’t quite understand how Niall is so hyper but he will deliberate on that another time), had just about bowled him over and there’s no doubt that he would have gone crashing to the hard stony gravel in a tangle of fluttering limbs had it not been for the younger boy now holding him up. 

Liam offers him a smile as he smoothes down his top and throws a cursing glare at Niall who at least has the audacity to look a little apologetic. 

“You need to get out of your head Li, there’s nothing good in there.” Niall calls over, the apologetic look has quickly been wiped off his face and he looks overly gleeful at the tease he’s thrown at Liam. 

Liam just shakes his head and begins to walk, Harry trailing at his side like an ever faithful dog; fitting Liam reflects, Harry makes a very good best friend. 

“He’s right you know? Not about the ‘nothing good’ in your head part” The slow drawl once again makes Liam look at the tall boy beside him, he watches with an amused shake of his head as Harry uses dopey quotation marks when he repeats Niall’s last words. “But you do need to get out of your head mate. We’re stopping here for the night so there’s no more we can do for, for Lou right now.” 

Liam turns and firmly clasps Harry is his muscled arms, he feels the small quake that shivers its way through Harry. Fuck, Liam thinks, Harry is struggling to say Louis’ fucking name. He doesn’t realise the words when the spill from his mouth but he does hear the drawn gasp of inhaled breath close to his ear and he more than feels Harry twist and squirm himself free from his hold. He can only watch with his breath held as Harry races, long limbs streaming flawlessly through the hazed air, as he speeds in to the motel. Liam doesn’t even stop to regretfully wish that he’d been stood next to Paul in side the motel foyer so that he could have fully appreciated the barrelling form of Harry enter the reception area. Instead he follows, feet pummelling at the ground as fast as they can.

Soon enough he’s stood panting next to Harry and it takes both of them to complete one audible and decipherable sentence thanks to their panting, overexcitement and anticipation. 

The receptionist looks at them, she’s just about recovered from the shock she’d received when the two young men had come barrelling towards her. She recognises them straight away, she’d be lying if she said that she’d never watched interviews of them, hell she’d even tried to get gigs to their tour but had missed out due to their lightening fast sales. 

She answers the two boys who are still trying to catch their breath, that no, Louis hasn’t been to the Motel; at least, not during her shift. 

Paul explains the situation; he assumes that she’ll be able to connect the dots herself anyway now that she’s seen the rest of One Direction and their tour manager frantic and checking into a random motel without any sign of Louis. 

She listens carefully, promises that she won’t tell a soul that they’re here and then she excuses herself to go and phone the person who worked the shift before her. 

Everyone waits with baited breath for her return and any hope vanishes from them, Harry truly believes he can feel it plummet from his chest and sink through his feet, escaping its way to hell. There’s been no guest here under the name of Louis Tomlinson, no one matching his description; but the young receptionist with the jet black hair and the name ‘Tracy’ bodged on her lapel, reasons with them that it was always going to be unlikely that they’d stumble across the same motel. There are hundreds of motels within a coach journey’s radius.

Tracy sees the dejection slink its way into all of their eyes; Zayn and Niall have now also joined the fray gathered on the other side of the desk. She watches as misery coats their expressions and it isn’t what she should be doing with her work time, it’s not what she gets paid for but she can see how important it is, she can feel how important it is just by looking at those facing her. So, with a small smile she takes the assembled room keys in her manicured nails and holds them out to the group clustered around her, and promises them with as much optimism as she can muster that she’ll phone around and see what she can find. 

\----------------------- 

Harry collapses, bones dog tired and muscles aching, onto the stereotypical motel bed complete with its musty looking red clean sheets. His eyes slip shut when his head’s rested on top of the pillow. He can vaguely hear Niall using the shower, the water beating against the shower doors, but he doesn’t care. It’s quite pleasant to have a reprieve from the stark silence that has been filling his head lately. 

He drifts away to sleep and his mind conjures up its own version of a familiar scene. 

It’s himself and Louis. The dream is like a series of Polaroid pictures, it flickers through the scenes quickly but Harry feels as though each one is a lifetime. He watches from eyes that he knows are his but unidentified in the sequence as Louis, with his electric blue eyes laughs and giggles, petite hands covering his lips and mirth sparkling through his entire being. 

They’re on stage now, it’s just the two of them, there’s no crowd yet. There’s no team of crew assembling lighting or pyrotechnics, there’s no Josh practicing on the drums, there’s no 5SOS rehearsing for their support show. It’s just the two of them and the air has never felt so fresh.

In the back of Harry’s slumber-filled mind he is somehow aware that this is a dream because his mind takes the time to breathe in everything he feels; everything he can possibly glimpse in the older boy. His dream floating body watches mesmerised as the body of his boyfriend prances clumsily around the abandoned stage and he can feel the shockwaves that undulate through the air as his own feet move and catch the wild Louis. Now, even though Harry’s pretty sure this is a dream, because he’s never seen a beach behind the stage before, nor has he ever heard the cackle of calling seagulls before a show, but he has also never felt something so real and alive than at this moment when he’s connecting the green and blue. 

Their lips graze one another, licking tenderly into one another’s mouths, noses grazing like the kisses he imagines Eskimos to share. He’s taken Louis’ curved waist in his large hand now, their groins just settle together, there’s no friction but he’s content like this. He knows the familiar mouth before him, he relishes the taste of Louis, the way his lips feel when they brush his own. This may be a mere dream but Harry knows that the same breathtaking feeling exists when he’s awake too. His senses are heightened, not to his surroundings but to the boy who surrounds him. Louis may be smaller in size but his presence never fails to overwhelm Harry. 

That scene of the dream fades in a flicker, as though it had never actually existed, but Harry can recall the feel of those dry lips on his, he cusps his hand together around thin air and yet it feels still so full of the boy who he gave his heart to. 

Now they’re together once more and Harry leans in to settle on top of Louis… 

But all he feels is Niall slump beside him on the double bed. 

“Fuck’s sake Niall.” He mumbles annoyed at losing any reach he had to hold his missing other half. 

Niall mutters an apology although totally unaware of the dream he’d awoken Harry from and simply turns over so that he’s facing Harry, lets his eyes close and chases his own sleep. 

Loving dreams of Louis do not return to Harry that night and he wakes with irritation consuming him which only increases when he feels the drool curled into his hair. 

\----------------------- 

Louis feels pain, it cuts into him and rolls through his whole being, he feels the bruises left behind from the harsh hands that have gripped him too tightly. He feels the saliva that lingers nauseatingly upon his skin. He whimpers as he shifts and winces as he catches his cuts on the rough linen that covers the bed upon which he is laid. 

After the horrors of the witch and the chair he’d once again woken from empty sleep to find himself strewn like a rag doll on the small bed. After a quick assessment, he didn’t want to dwell too long on the sight of his own body because he was repulsed by the state of himself, but he was able to note that he was not restrained as he had been previously. He almost vomited though when, during his speedy investigation, he had spotted the cuffs that remain fixed to each ankle and wrist; he can only surmise that these are an addition to his body now. From inspection of the one on his left wrist when he’d held it above his face limply, he could see the small thick padlocks holding the cuff together; he knows they’re there to stay. His right wrist is the only one chained to the bed; the links rattle a little as he tries to reposition his weak body. 

Desperate to evade the nightmare he is currently living in, Louis closes his eyes and works to keep his breath even and steady, praying with all the might he can muster for an escape. His mind chases dreams, sweet dreams he craves, imaginings and visions of his life from before it all fell apart. He’d give anything right now if only his dreams would fill with visions of Harry’s wide toothy pink smile, the dimples that create little caves upon his cheeks that are the perfect size for Louis’ little finger. But of course, he’s Louis and nothing seems to be working in his favour right now, so of course, his dreams are blank; only interrupted irregularly by a crushing feeling of suffering. 

\----------------------- 

The phone blinks on and when the amount of missed calls and unanswered texts quickly rises, Charles knows he has made the right choice. He looks, an unexplained fondness coursing through him when he lays his dusty blue-grey eyes on the background. There are five boys, all with limbs entwisted around one another, but his eyes are drawn to two of them in particular; they’re staring at each other. One is the young man who this phone belongs to and the other is an unknown to him; but he knows that to the boy he is the world. He sees the same fond look in those cobalt blue eyes as he does when he looks at his own when looking through photographs of his life with his wife. His eyes remain drawn to the phone’s background until he’s shaken from his blissful memories when the handset starts vibrating in his hand; apparently Zayn is calling… 

\----------------------- 

Zayn isn’t sure why he’s trying again but there’s nothing to lose by adding yet another message to the probably already full voicemail inbox. His heart stutters and almost stops beating altogether, when finally, after two days too long, the call is accepted…  
\----------------------- 

Tracy puts down the phone and feels glee flowing through her; she does not know when this became so important to her but she feels invested in the lives of One Direction; especially when they’re stood falling apart right in front of her. She dials the room where she knows the manager is staying and tells him that she has information on Louis’ whereabouts and could he please come straight to the front desk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this, commenting, bookmarking and leaving kudos. You've no idea how pleased it makes me when I see that maybe, just maybe, someone is actually enjoying this :) Hope this chapter was okay, more this weekend (probably but no promises 'cos I tend to break those...)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. I love this story and like my other I intend to finish it. It's just that my brain kind of fills itself with so many ideas and directions and I really struggled with what to do with this story. It's not planned and I never know whether what I'm writing is actually any good. So yeah, I hope this is okay and sorry if there's any errors or typos; I don't read my own work back because it makes me cringe. 
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who has read, I'm very pleased but extremely surprised by the amount of hits, kudos, bookmarks and kind comments. Sorry for the delay too. I'll try update soon :)

Louis wakes up, he can still feel the metal cuffs digging tightly into his wrists and ankles, and he’s still lying down and can do nothing but stare blankly up at the grey ceiling that looms over him. He whimpers as he tries to shuffle into a slightly more comfortable position on the hard mattress, the cuts still sting and his muscles ache. He wishes with all of his might that he could be with the other boys, with his Harry, he is so angry with himself that he ever walked away. He wishes that he’d just given everyone a real honest answer when they repeatedly asked “Are you okay?” Then he remembers, he’s Louis Tomlinson, he hides everything with a manic grin and an immature façade. The bitter thoughts of regret consume Louis as he lies in his prison, they seep around his veins like the blood that pumps from his heart, they make him shake and gasp and sob, and he loses himself deeper and deeper into his mind. His mind that’s for too long been split; there’s a big wall down the middle, splitting the wonderful, incredible aspects of his life from the darker ones. Louis’ eyes, in their not fully lucid and completely exhausted state can picture the insides of his brain now; there’s Harry on the left and another comment about his tummy on the right. There are the other boys on the left with Stan and then there are the numerous derogatory comments about his sexual orientation. There’s his family on the left and every single negative tweet he has ever read about himself.

The imaginary images blur and begin to fade out thanks to the fresh tears that are building in his eyes. He doesn’t want to cry anymore. He doesn’t want to feel anymore, he doesn’t want to be tied to a frigging bed anymore. With that thought, he shakes and screams and yells, he wrenches his body in a manic motion, side to side, pulling his limbs, shouting at the top of his lungs, his voice hoarse and his whole being so done with it all. 

The door swings open hurriedly; he didn’t hear the footsteps over the rough cries spilling from his lips.

He does however, feel the material that’s shoved between his lips, they muffle his sounds. A big meaty hand covers his mouth on top of the rag, “Shut up!” 

Louis is still moving his head around wildly to try and evade the hand but it follows the movements, he can vaguely hear the man’s voice but he’s still releasing his own wails; they’re becoming more and more animalistic now. 

“Shut up boy, shut your mouth, before I do something you won’t like.” 

The loud words just sound like white noise to Louis, he doesn’t comprehend them, he only feels the hand grip tighter; the material feeding deeper and deeper into his mouth that’s so dry and sore. He’s still trying to pull free, he’s still crying and whimpering and trying to shout but not much is coming out now; he’s too weak to fight too hard now. 

The man’s hand presses down a little tighter still, his fingers twisting and gripped into Louis’ sunken cheeks. “That’s better, you’ll learn to do as I say soon, boy.” He lowers his face towards Louis’ own and smiles down, a wicked smile that shows his teeth and passes his rank breath straight down and wafts into Louis’ flaring nostrils. 

The hand that covers his mouth still presses tightly but a new panic rises up quickly in Louis when he feels the other pinch his nose; cutting off his breath. “I’m going to remove my hand and you’re going to keep quiet, you hear me?” 

Louis can make out the words now, they still sound muffled and far away, and it takes a few seconds too long for his brain to fully understand what is being asked of him which causes more panic to swell up inside of him. Finally though, just as he feels his head becoming dizzier, he manages to nod, shaking his head frantically against the pillow upon which it lays. 

“I know we haven’t had our formal introductions yet, but I know you’re Louis Tomlinson and you don’t need to know me. You can call me Sir. Understood?” 

Louis doesn’t register that it’s a question; he knows the voice is directing speech at him but he’s still trying to catch his breath and calm down - he’s tired of blacking out. He does realise though when the man’s hand swats his cheek harshly forcing his whole head to swing sideways with the movement. 

“You’ll call me Sir won’t you boy?” The man repeats once more in a snarl and Louis can’t find it in himself to raise his eyes. He doesn’t want to look at the man before him; so he weakly replies that, yes, he will call him sir. 

The material still lies between his teeth and Louis can’t remove it with being shackled to the bed, so he lies there, listening to the man explain that his wife has taken a liking to him, but he himself knows what Louis is worth and he likes the idea of getting a payout from some no good pop star. 

Louis can do nothing but lie there and listen, well not really listen as his whole body is still shuddering and shaking with weakened sobs and his ears are still ringing with a fuzzy noise.

The man pulls Louis upright, altering his cuffs so that his wrists bind together behind his back, but his legs are free. 

“I would warn you not to run, but you and I both know you couldn’t anyway.” The man laughs with a sneer and runs his hand through Louis’ greasy hair. 

He moves behind Louis now and pushes him forwards; Louis stumbles but manages to catch himself before he hits the floor. His legs are shaky and he feels a little like he imagines Bambi did when he took his first steps. He hears the man chuckle cruelly behind him and closes his eyes to the noise; shame fills him.

The man pushes him, directing his feet where to carry his body and he finds himself arriving into a dirty bathroom. Tiles are missing from the walls, the whole room has a layer of grime covering it, and there are cracks in the shower base and toilet seat. 

The next few minutes feel like an eternity to Louis and he has never felt so weak, so depressed and so thoroughly humiliated. He’s stripped bare, his trousers and boxers removed. He does try to kick out at the man but he just receives a punch to the gut that once again threatens to lower him to the floor.   
“Don’t worry boy, lucky for you I ain’t got any interests for touching your dick. My wife, well she would love nothing more, but that’s another story.” The words may have been slightly reassuring to Louis but they don’t offer him any comfort; he can only feel a small amount of relief before his brain catches up with what’s happening and he’s acknowledging that a couple have abducted him, are holding him hostage and are now stripping him naked. 

The t-shirt he is wearing poses a problem with his hands bound behind him; but the man has no problem with brandishing a pair of scissors and cutting it from him. As Louis feels the metal blades slide against his skin briefly he finds his mind wandering; imagining if it would be too difficult to somehow jab his neck into the blades. He muses if they would be sharp enough to pierce his skin. He wonders if they would be capable of slitting his wrists. 

He crashes back to his terror filled reality when the last sleeve is cut from his body. He’s bare now, fully naked, arms restrained and the man is taking hold of his bicep and moving him bodily to stand in the shower stall. The spray is cold and makes Louis shiver, he whimpers when it hits him and he closes his eyes tightly, squeezing them shut and trying to erase the feeling of the mans rough hands scraping over his exposed body. The hands push and tug at his hair, scrubbing soap through the strands, then move lower and rinse his face. Louis closes his mouth to stop the water, soap and fingers from entering. 

At long last the torment is finished and his body is pulled free from the shower; he’s left to stand in the bathroom, shivers running wildly across his naked form.

There’s no towel for him, instead he is just redressed in loose sweat pants. Then he is being moved again, the man hasn’t spoken in a while now, maybe he has nothing more to say Louis thinks. He’s dragged into yet another room with blank greying walls. The smell of damp wafts its way into his nostrils and at this point he isn’t sure if it is him or the room.

There’s a laptop set up on a small table and a single wooden seat placed facing it. Louis is forced to sit; the man holds tightly onto his shoulders, the pressure makes the wicker back dig into Louis’ bare arms. 

“Let’s get started then shall we, Louis.” 

\----------------------- 

They’re all gathered together on the tour bus once more and no words have been uttered in several long minutes.

Zayn had spoken to Charles, the coach driver and current possessor of Louis’ mobile, for long enough to learn that the last place he had been seen was a petrol station about 12 hours away from where their current location. When he’d filled the others in on this news, Paul had spoken up and contributed that Tracy’s colleague had identified Louis as a guest at a motel about 7 hours away from them. Together they had surmised that Charles had seen Louis most recently. 

“So it’s simple then, we go to the petrol station and find out what happened, where he went, someone else must have seen him… He can’t just disappear?” Stan stands up from the couch, his hands have stopped their shaking slightly and he feels a little better knowing that his friend is still functioning; maybe not lucidly but at least he’s alive. That’s good enough for Stan right now. 

“We can’t, there’s a show tonight remember and you boys can’t miss it.” Paul looks at each boy in front of him and he has to try his best to hide his own frustration but it’s difficult when faced with five devastated expressions.

“Paul, we can’t do the show, not when we know he’s out there. We need to find him.” Liam argues, getting ready to fight it out then and there.

“Liam, don’t mate, we all know that we can’t just travel all that way when fans have paid to see you.” Paul has never felt more like the devil; his eyes are drawn and his gaze is focussed on Harry. Harry who hasn’t spoken once in the whole time they’ve been on the bus, Paul can see the way that his lips are wobbling and he knows how hard Harry is trying to hold himself together. 

“Yeah, he’s right; you guys have a show… But I don’t. And I’m going to find my friend.” Stan’s voice is strong, loud and clear; there’s no room for argument. Paul knows this and acknowledges it with a nod. 

“Come back to the arena with us, collect Andy and he’ll go with you, the driver will take you to the petrol station, alright?” Paul waits for Stan to nod and then swiftly moves to the front of the bus and within a few short seconds, the bus is on the move once more.

Niall wrings his hands together, the grasp one another and twist, fingers winding around each other. His foot taps off the floor making his leg bounce and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He wants to hit something, he wants to shout at someone, he wants to wring his hands around Louis’ neck and never let go. 

“Soon as we find the arse we need to be having a long chat about his inability of actually talk about his feelings.” Niall mutters. He doesn’t look around to notice that everyone is nodding in agreement; each one of them feeling the exact same way. 

“Soon as we find him I’m never letting go.” Harry’s voice is mumbled and breaks at the end as tear spill down from his eyes, they’ve finally broken free and he swallows back the sob that has been lurking in his throat once more. 

Zayn takes one look at Harry and it breaks his heart; he pulls the younger man into his arms, holding tight and pulling the curled locks into his shoulder when he feels the body shake with sobs. 

Niall fetches them all a beer each from the fridge and they drink in silence. There’s nothing for them to say at this point; they all just wish they could either rewind time and stop Louis from leaving, or, fast forward time and just have him back there with him where he belongs. 

Stan brings himself to call Jay and fill her in on what has happened; she replies saying that she’s organised for the girls to stay with family and that her and Dan are on their way out. They finish the call both expressing their hope that the next time they see each other Louis will be there with them too. 

\-----------------------

Louis’ hands have been released, the cuffs still remain on his wrists; they’re permanent fixtures to his body now. This is a bitter thought to Louis and he wants to yell some more at everything that is happening right now but he can’t summon the strength to fight anymore. So he sits, and watches, his eyes are a constant haze of water and a dull aching pain, and he can’t really bring himself to care as the man powers on the laptop. 

“I need you to transfer me money.” 

Louis doesn’t respond; he’s not sure what response he can give to that. 

“You won’t need it anymore soon, hell you don’t need it now boy, and you never deserved it. All those people out there in the world like me and my wife and then there’s some horrid little faggot boy like you who can’t sing for shit and you get more in a day than me and my wife have got in our whole lives.” 

Louis hears the words but nothing seems to register with him anymore. The sounds just float in the air like ephemeral flies buzzing around a road kill. Louis can’t help but compare his own pitiful being to road kill. He knows he doesn’t deserve the amount of money in his bank; he doesn’t deserve people telling him that he’s good at something when he’s actually not. The other boys would be much better off without him. 

“Enter your details little Louis.” Louis is brought back from his thoughts when there’s a hand slapping his face, he feels the sting pulse through him, then the wave of nausea follows as the dirty fingernails run along his neck. 

He’s on autopilot as he begins to put in his bank account number and sort code; he doesn’t pay any attention to what he’s doing and the repercussions of it. He doesn’t deserve his money; he doesn’t deserve any of it. More to the point though and far more worryingly (although it doesn’t worry Louis because he doesn’t feel anymore) he doesn’t want the money; he doesn’t need it. He doesn’t plan on using it, he wants to just get away from everything and if that means he leaves this world then so be it. 

He just wishes, a little feeling that sits deep at the base of his heart, that he could tell his loved ones that it was nothing they did; it was what he himself failed to do. He failed to adjust to the hectic life they lead, he has failed his whole life when it comes to talking about anything remotely personal to him, he has failed his family and friends and that hurts him. It hurts him so deeply that he wishes he was gone; so they wouldn’t be plagued with him anymore. 

He begins to let go of the hurt he has felt for too long when he watches the fortune transfer; he’s given it away. The man and his wife haven’t taken it from him; he gave it willingly. 

He lowers his head; all resolve has faded completely now. The man laughs, an evil twisted manic chuckle, but it doesn’t make Louis feel afraid, or angry, or bitter. 

The man pulls Louis from the seat with great speeds and smacks a kiss to his lips, there’s no tongue, no saliva shared; just the man is exuberant. Louis doesn’t even pay it any thought; there are no thoughts in his head right now. He doesn’t realise the irony of the man who had just insulted him as a faggot now willingly kissing him. He doesn’t care as his body is once more flung in the pit where he had first awoken. He doesn’t care as he hears the man shout cheerfully and grin and laugh. He doesn’t care as the door swings shut and the bolt is drawn to lock it shut.

Louis has no cares anymore; he’s given everything up.

\-----------------------

Stan and Andy arrive at the petrol station only to be told that the CCTV isn’t a good quality but they vehemently insist on watching it anyway. They can make out the shape of a man disembarking the coach, he looks like Louis but they can’t be sure it is in fact him. Stan feels like he has been physically hit in the gut as he watches what follows; he knows for certain that the man was Louis now. He sees his best friend collapse and tossed into a car. 

“The police need this tape now, they may be able to clean the image; get a license plate or go from like the model of the car or the insurance or something.” Andy’s incensed; he speaks because he knows Stan can’t function. The boy is stood, face just staring at the screen but his eyes look distant; Andy knows they’re imagining the possible horrors that Louis is living. 

Andy waits as the petrol station worker rings the police and informs them of the circumstances that have unfolded. Then, once he’s been assured the police are on their way, he calls Paul and fills him in. The cursed expletives that Paul releases are the exact replica of the ones that Andy has been saying inside his own head. He hopes that Paul is alone; that he’s not with the other band members. Harry.

“Paul, you can’t tell Harry yet, not until we know more. This’ll kill him Paul.” Andy’s voice shakes; he considers all of One Direction to be his friends and he knows the truth about Harry and Louis’ relationship. Anyone can see how in love the two are and it frustrates every one of the team and crew when they know it has to remain a secret. 

Paul sighs and agrees; but they both understand that soon enough press will catch wind of this and they’ll have no choice but to tell the band the truth. 

\----------------------- 

The man and his wife are packing hurriedly, their few scattered and measly belongings are put into bin bags and carried to the car, the engine is running and they’re about to leave. They have a fortune in their bank now; more money than they could have ever dreamt of. It wasn’t the original plan. That was to play with the boy, hurt him like they had with the others before him. But they realised, they were onto a winner with this one, he was different; he didn’t have to be a plaything for their entertainment… He could give them the means to have the lives they believed they deserved to have. They had both expected more resilience, more fight from the boy they had both heard about as the outspoken member of the world famous band. It had been surprisingly easy; he just gave them his fortune. 

The man returns to the room in which they have imprisoned Louis and smirks at the door before him. In his arms he carries chains and a few other things. The room is a basement, set down a long flight of stairs, it smells of damp and he hears the scurry of rats within the walls. 

He opens the door, a sadistic enjoyment fills him when Louis doesn’t move, and he doesn’t scurry back like their previous playthings. Somehow, the man finds more pleasure in this, he half wishes he had taken more time to properly become acquainted with the younger male; he sure as hell would have enjoyed the things he could have made happen with that body. 

He takes the boys wrists and can’t help himself; he raises each hand, one then the other, and places the fingers in his mouth. He sucks on them and licks them, his spit dampening the boy’s flesh; his hands transfixed on the way Louis shudders but doesn’t fight him off. A grin grows on his face and he takes his time to relish the feel of the small delicate fingers in his mouth. He releases them, opening the cavern of his mouth and letting them fall free. He takes the chain then and attaches it to each of the wrist cuffs behind Louis’ back, then he winds it around the bed post and feeds it to the each of the ankle cuffs in turn. Louis expels a moan of pain as his limbs are forced to move in ways they haven’t for too long; his whole body is stiff and sore and tired and there are dull aches everywhere. His eyelids are drooping, he just wants to let them close and he honestly doesn’t mind if they remain that way forever. But a tiny, tiny, part of him is determined to watch the man’s actions. He doesn’t know why, he can’t quite get a grasp on any part of what is happening, his mind is a fuzz of thoughts and sounds all blurred together. He likens it to a bad film, the type of movie where you know it’s terrible, you acknowledge it and are sure of it, but you still can’t bring yourself to turn it off because you’re a little bit intrigued as to how it ends. 

The man smirks, pleased with himself; he has manipulate Louis’ body so that it is sat on the bed, wrists bound behind his back and his ankles drawn up so that his knees are bent and his legs spread body width apart. It’ll be uncomfortable very quickly and the man wishes he didn’t have to leave so soon; he’d like to enjoy watching the muscle spasms and whimpers of pain as they boy struggles in vain to relieve the strain.

There’s no wiggle room for Louis. He doesn’t try though. He’s given up. A small part of him admonishes himself for this but it’s been too long, so long, since he actually felt alive and worth something. He’s watched his life as if through the eyes of a stranger for too damn long and it has scared him, it’s tipped him over the edge, and this is it now, this is him sinking in the murky water. His body has been crashed and flung by the waves of life, battered and he’s tried his hardest to fight, to fight for his survival against the crushing tide, but it’s overpowering him. It’s overpowered him for long enough and it’s like his body has accepted its fate. He’s allowed himself to let go and let life, or death, play itself out. 

“There we go. You look so good like that, you deserve this remember. This is all for you. All that you deserve; you deserve to rot here, alone, like the waste you are.” The man strokes a hand unkindly through Louis’ hair and tugs so hard at the end that some strands are pulled free. 

“These are for me to keep now. You don’t mind do you, Louis-schmouis. Tell you what, seen as though you’re letting me keep something of yours,” He holds the strands of hair in front of Louis’ eyes and takes pleasure from the blank look, “It’s only fair that I let you keep something of mine.” He rids himself of his own shirt and pulls it over Louis’ head. It covers his whole body, it’s huge on the small and fragile boy, it hides his bare arms and naked torso and sits over the bound wrists. 

“There,” He sighs happily, pleased with the way his clothes look on Louis, “That’ll keep you warm. For a while, you’ve got some time to wait ‘til your death now, so I don’t want you to be cold and besides,” He caresses a calloused hand down Louis’ now covered chest, rubbing down his sternum and resting on his tummy, “This way, you’ll be thinking of me, you’ve got something to remember me by.” He digs his hand into Louis’ stomach, the grip stronger than someone would use when tickling but the movement is the same. 

Louis whimpers and groans with pain when the same hand continues to jab and jab, the strength behind the hand is growing stronger and digging in painfully, and he can’t escape it. So he rests, bound, as the man rains a few punches into his tummy. 

“Ah, ah, ah, let me see those blues one last time, don’t hide them from me.” The man grabs at Louis’ chin as his head drops; his neck seemingly unable to hold it up any longer. 

The man holds Louis’ face in his hands for a few moments and the two stare at each other. The man takes in the features of the younger male and vows to retain them as the fondest of memories for the rest of his days. Louis’ own eyes are unseeing, sure, they see a blurred figure, but his eyelids are dropping, tears still sit in pools and he feels dazed.

Without realising it is happening to him, Louis’ eyes are covered, one by one, the texture feels like selotape but it’s black and hides his vision. His eyelids finally fall shut and he doesn’t even feel panic when he tries to pull them open only to discover he is unable to. 

Next, there’s tape feeding around his head and it covers his mouth; presses his thin dry lips tightly together. 

He’s trapped now, in a world where it’s just him, just him and no feeling. He can’t see, he can’t move, he can’t talk and there’s nothing to hear.

He is vaguely aware of the other man’s presence but he can’t feel anything, no movement to suggest that he remains. 

Time passes and Louis would argue that it felt like a lifetime. He feels forceful hands glide over him and the weight of a heavy object slither over his body. Muffled yelps and groans of pain fall from his mouth when he feels his skin sliced; the object was a knife and it cuts him. It dances along his shoulders and slices once there, it slips down his arms and cuts him twice by the elbows, it slides further down and rests at his back just above the waistline of the bottoms he is wearing. One, two, three cuts there. Pain fills him and he whimpers. Tears want to fall from his eyes but there doesn’t even feel like there’s enough space for the water to drop free behind the tight tape. 

The knife dances in the man’s hand, it jumps from place to place on Louis’ body, cutting his hip, then his bare feet, back up to his tummy, along to his collarbone just above the letters that are inked there. 

The cuts aren’t deep enough to kill, they will just hurt, worse than a paper cut but less than a stab wound, the man thinks as he grins once more. 

“This knife is for you boy. It’s yours now, I know you want to but obviously it’ll be a bit of a challenge; so work for it yeah? I’ll leave it here and when you’re ready, mind you, you seem ready now, you use it yeah? Stab and jab yourself, slit your throat, however you like just use it to end it all. I’d love to do it for you but I have to go now.” The man balances the knife so that it sits, bottom of the handle resting on the bed and the blade lies on Louis’ covered groin. “I would say try not to wiggle too much but I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

Louis cries out, but it’s muffled by the tape gag, as the man pushes his fingers into some of the visible cuts that litter his body and mar his flesh.

“The pleasure, Louis Tomlinson, was all mine.” 

Louis hears the man’s footsteps retreat and the clang of the door clicking to a close, he vaguely hears the sounds of what he imagines to be a padlock closing.

Then there’s silence. Nothing but the sound of his own blood pumping, he sits and waits, and he thinks that this is where he will die.


	6. Chapter 6

ONE DIRECTION DEVASTATED ABOUT MISSING BAND MEMBER 

WORRIES OVER WHEREABOUTS OF WORLD FAMOUS POP STAR

LOUIS TOMLINSON MISSING

Jay has no interest in looking at the rest of the articles; the headline written in capitals seem to have drawn the world’s attention and when they land in America her and Dan are bombarded by journalists and fans. Voices shout over the top of each other; all seeking more information. It breaks Jay’s heart that she doesn’t have any to give. She has no idea where her only son is and she finds herself close to tears again, she’s barely managed to stop crying at all over the past few days. Dan hugs her into his side with a gentle hand clasped around her waist; trying in vain to shield her from the attention.

They clamber into the car that awaits them and quickly escape the people. 

“I just want my boy back, Dan; I don’t understand how this has happened.” Jay crumbles and the tears fall. 

“I know, I know baby, but he’s going to be okay. He’s Louis, your boy, they’ll find him.” Dan tries to make his voice sound as positive and reassuring as he possibly can and presses his lips to Jay’s hair. 

“But, he shouldn’t be missing Dan, and that video, he, they, …” Jay’s voice trembles and fades away; she physically can’t bring herself to verbally admit that someone has taken her son. 

“Sweetheart, I know, that video shouldn’t have been released and the petrol worker’s going to be reprimanded, don’t worry about that, but maybe it’s a good thing. More eyes and ears around looking for him, let’s try and turn the negative into a positive, yeah?” 

Silence encompasses the couple; they found out about the CCTV video from the petrol station showing the car that took Louis away. Fury consumed both, as well as the rest of the One Direction team when the man who had promised Stan, Andy and the police that he wouldn’t make the video public, released his own copy to the press who shared it with the rest of the world. Understandably the fans were beyond concerned and everyone’s twitter had been inundated with messages asking if it was true. 

Dan’s phone rings and Jay half-listens whilst staring out of the car window; the tears continue to roll slowly down her pale cheeks and match up with the rain that trickles through the glass. She hears Dan say words but she doesn’t care for them; she is only listening in case her son is mentioned, he isn’t, and when Dan says his goodbyes to whomever he was talking to she doesn’t turn her gaze. 

“Babe, that was Anne, she’s spoken with Harry not long ago and they’re all at the petrol station now so they’re waiting for us.” Dan watches as Jay blinks, fresh tears falling from her eyes, she swallows and gives him a weak shuddering nod to show that she heard him. He takes her hand in his and they sit, both just staring out of the window and trying their best not to think of what Louis may be going through.

\----------------------- 

Harry himself was a total wreck. His eyes were painfully red and his lips dry and bitten. He hasn’t spoken a word to anyone in the whole bus ride from the arena to the petrol station. The gig cancelled and the rest of the tour is on hold indefinitely; nobody is sure there’ll be any more Take Me Home shows ever again and Harry’s mind needs to stop making him think, nownownow. He sniffs, then sniffs again, and wipes at his eyes; scuffing them roughly with the back of his hand. 

Liam’s talking to Andy in hushed tones, Harry watches their lips move but doesn’t take in any of the jumbled sounds. His attention is snagged when Niall comes bounding into the bus they’re all lounging in. 

“Harry! Haz, Jay’s here, their car’s just pulled up.” 

Harry’s on his feet and pushing passed Niall with as much haste as he can muster. His long legs leap from the bus and rush over to where Jay’s exiting the car and before either of them know it, his arms have wrapped around her.

Paul watches from where he’s stood beside Dan as the pair cry into each other’s arms; he knows that the Tomlinson and Styles family have long considered each other family but this display of affection proves to them all just how true that really is. 

Jay feels the young man shaking with sobs in her arms and her motherly instincts take over, she glides her hands over his quivering back, rubbing, and murmurs weightless words. She pulls back and knows that the torment she sees in the green eyes mirrors her own. 

Zayn has been watching the scene from the sidelines as well and he knows that both have words which they want to say but he also knows that neither can; because they don’t believe them. Everyone wants to comfort each other by saying typical phrases like “It’ll be okay” and “He’ll be alright.” Zayn feels his own heart ache, he misses Louis so much, and he has missed the boy for a long time; longer than just the few days that he’s actually been missing. Zayn, like the others, had noticed the vacant look that overpowered the blue pools of Louis’ eyes. He’d watched as Louis started gulping alcohol with more vigour, he’d heard the tears that Louis spilt when he thought they were sleeping. Hell, he’d help design the tattoos that Louis had more frequently had inked into his skin. 

“It’s good to see you Jay. And you, Dan.” Zayn’s voice is quiet and subdued but it stops the tears and the couple he addresses both turn to him and give weak smiles in greeting. 

Harry is relieved that Zayn has taken the attention off him and uses the moments to wipe at his painful eyes. 

“The police want a word with us now that you’re both here. They’re set up in the coffee lounge.” 

Everyone starts to move and Zayn lets his feet carry him to Harry’s side, they’re walking shoulder to shoulder and Zayn can’t do much but watch as more tears slowly slide down Harry’s cheeks and slip under his jaw.

“Come on Haz, we’ll get there, we’ll find him.”

“How do you know though Zayn?” Harry replies and Zayn takes a sorrowful moment to ponder whether he has ever heard someone sound so despondent and depressed.

“Because none of us will ever stop looking until we do, you know that Haz, so let’s dry your eyes babe,” Zayn tugs at Harry’s elbow and leads them both to the toilets which are situated near the lounge. “Then we’ll go in there,” He inclines his head in the direction of the voices coming from the lounge, “And we can cry as many tears as we need to do when we’ve got our Lou safely back here with us. Okay?” 

Harry’s nods, allows a few more dribbly tears and then physically shakes himself a little as if to fling off the misery.

“Thank you”

“I’ve not done anything you wouldn’t do for me Haz.” Zayn smiles and it grows bigger on his face when he’s given one in return, albeit it’s tiny, but it is there; sitting on Harry’s face and it looks so much better than the tears.

They arrive in the lounge and everyone glances at them. Paul, Andy, Liam, Niall, Jay, Dan and more of their security are all sat around on sofas and chairs facing a group of police officers.

“We’ve managed to get a partial view of the license plate on the car and given that we can distinguish the car’s make and model we’ve narrowed it down. I’ve got some officers looking into their locations now and given the time frame we may be able to narrow it down even more.” The officer in charge flickers his gaze over the gathered group. “As for the people responsible, we’ve ascertained, obviously from the tape, that there’s a driver and a passenger with Louis. We can’t really make out their image given the poor quality but we think it’s a man and a woman. This may help us when we get to the car owner; it may be wishful thinking but hopefully the car will be registered to both of them.” 

“Did they actually get petrol, like, would they not have gone into the shop?” Liam’s voice breaks the silence that had fallen since the officer stopped speaking.

“No, it seems they didn’t, which in itself is suspicious.” The officer’s eyebrows are slightly raised, “The worker should have clocked them as there are provisions in place for suspicious vehicles like that.” 

“Yeah but that bastard obviously didn’t give a shit.” Niall’s voice is cutting, the anger in it is obvious and Liam doesn’t think he’s ever heard the usually upbeat Irish boy sound so full of fury. 

“As for the man who has Louis’ phone, a Charles Miller,” The officer’s eyes turn to Zayn. “He’s the driver of the coach that Louis was on,” His eyes dart around the others until the fall and rest upon Zayn once more. “We got in touch with him and he’s on his way here now, should be here in under 30 minutes I would think, he’s bringing the phone and I thought he would be able to fill us in on how Louis was.”

“He was depressed.” Harry’s voice is slow and the words are drawn out as usual but the sadness makes Jay sob.

“He’s been ringing home less and less lately, when I asked him why, he just said that it was getting too difficult; that he was homesick enough without hearing our voices. We started to text instead…” Jay breaks down and Dan wraps her up in his arms once more.

“It’s harder to tell how someone is feeling through text,” Dan speaks for the first time. “Jay showed me the messages and we both thought he was a little colder than usual, he normally goes into a lot of detail about everything but they became less and less, we just put it down to you boys not having much free time.” 

“He started doing less of everything, laughing, talking, smiling, sleeping…” Niall’s voice is murmured and his head is down, he’s talking to his lap, his knees are bent and hands loosely clasped together.

Not a lot is said throughout the time they wait for Charles to arrive; a few words here and there are uttered; people commenting on Louis’ state of mind. 

“He’s here.” An officer enters the room to let them know and then retreats to fetch him.

“I would say it’s good to meet you all, but given the circumstances…” Charles looks at everyone quickly in greeting, “I’m Charles, Charles Miller, I have Louis’ phone.” With that said, he delves into the pocket of his worn-out waist coat and pulls out a black iPhone.

As soon as Harry sees that he’s pulled himself up and out of his chair, flung himself across the distance that separates him from Charles and takes it, unmasking, into his hands; holding it as if it were a piece of treasure. 

Harry looks at the phone, he presses the home button and it feels like a punch in the gut when his eyes fall on the background picture. He sees his own face smiling up at him and what a smile it is. He’s stood there beside the man he loves and the affection is clear in both their eyes. The blue and the green look as though they belong together; the shades of the colours are so bright and full of life and love and happiness. He blinks his own eyes as he continues to stare down, but tears do not fall now, he’s gained a renewed sense of fury at the fact that his boy is missing and now is not the time for tears.  
“Thank you for this, thank you so much, I’m Harry by the way.” 

And thus, the introductions begin and Charles becomes acquainted with all of those who are gathered together in the small lounge. Drinks are handed round and Charles is shown a seat. He begins to tell them about the nameless boy who boarded his coach, who sat staring out of the window silently, who had to be dragged in and out of the motel. He told them of Louis’ sudden departure from the coach when he’d been filling up with petrol; how he thought that it was bizarre for him to leave then and that he had never fathomed the exact reason for it.

“Mr Miller,” The officer in charge addresses him, “If we were to show you photographs of the subjects would you be able to recognise them at all, I mean, did you see anybody suspicious at all?”

“No, not from what I can remember, it’s as I said, Louis was by himself, had been the whole journey, hell, I hadn’t even seen him talk to anyone of that phone.” Charles nods his head in the direction of Louis’ mobile which is still being cradled carefully in Harry’s palm.

“Sir?” An officer speaks up and the man in charge walks over to him where they proceed to talk in hushed voices.

“Thank you for looking out for my son.” Jay walks over to Charles, her legs shudder and Dan puts out his arms inconspicuously in order to catch her should she fall, she doesn’t. “You looked out for my son, at the motel and by keeping his phone, you didn’t have to do that but I’m glad you did. Thank you.” Jay takes Charles’ hand within her own gentle and grips it, not tightly, but enough to convey some gratitude.

“Ma’am,” Charles begins to address Jay but she stops him and asks her to call her Jay, he consents and continues, “I know what’s it like to have children, I got three of my own, they did their fair share of making me worry over the years. I saw the look in your son’s eyes; they looked unhappy, dispirited even, but I also saw the fight. It was small, but it remains in him, he may have given up on himself for a while there but I know a fighter when I see one.”

Niall interrupts, “Hell, he’s not fighting; he’s not fought in too long, fuck,” The accent grows stronger in Niall’s words, “He’s given up. We should have done something, I’ve been worried about him for too long and I know I’ve not been the only one, we should have fucking helped him.” 

“Stop Niall, please stop, just don’t…” Harry murmurs and his hand clutches Louis’ phone harder. 

“Son, I know it may look like he’s given up and it may seem like it,” Charles stoops down in front of Niall and draws his face up so they’re looking at each other, “And you might be able to see it in his eyes,” Charles pats his hand on Niall’s denim clothed knee. He pauses a moment and then continues; his voice soft but unwavering. “But he’s young and healthy and judging from the amount of love there is in this room alone for him, he’ll be the boy in that photograph in no time…” Charles points to the phone which continues to lie in Harry’s trembling hand. 

“We have to find him first though. And we don’t know where he is because some evil bastard has taken him.” Stan speaks for the first time, the gravely undertones of his voice send a shiver down Charles’ spine. 

Just as he is about to respond, the officer in charge clears his voice and all attention is on him.

“We have managed to narrow the vehicle down, but unfortunately we have a rather long list of them, there is in total 157 vehicles of that make and model in a day’s driving distance of here. But, we’ve taken a chance and narrowed it down further to a driving distance of 5 hours; which leaves us with 44 cars. This elimination means that it is obviously an easier amount to manage and gives us a better likelihood of finding the right car. So, sit comfortably and please look at the screen.” He clicks on the projector that had been set up earlier, “We have photo identification of the owners of 43 of the cars, the other way seems to be missing, but we have officers looking into that as we speak.”

“Who fucking bets that’s the one bloody car that we need.” Stan’s voice is bitter, he’s sidled along to station himself next to Niall and together the pair looks like the most enraged and murderous looking set of people Harry will ever see in his entire life. The whole absurdity of the situation they have found themselves to be in hits Harry like a slap to the face and he barks out a laugh. Sure, it’s an acidic, bitter laugh but a laugh nevertheless and it has everyone looking at him like he is crazy.

“Harry?” Liam looks at him, his gaze full of concern and worry. He moves closer to the younger boy and his movements are echoed by Zayn on the other side. Together they trap Harry and the three of them form a small wall as they turn back to the projector.

Men and women of different ages and ethnicities flicker on the screen, one by one, some have long hair and some have short, their eyes are various colours and each one is unrecognisable to those gathered in the lounge.

Jay is becoming increasingly despondent, she doesn’t quite understand why they are being shown these photos with the expectation that they should recognise someone; they don’t know any one in America or, more to the point, they don’t know any one in America that would abduct Louis. The thought of Louis, her first born, her only son, being abducted makes her body shudder again and she begins to bite on the fingernails of her right hand.

Dan sees the movement out of the corner of his eye and reaches over to tug her hand from her mouth; he raises it to his lips and presses a kiss to it. He holds it tight and doesn’t let go; he knows that she’s worried but he also knows of her habit. When she worries she nibbles on her nails until they’re low and sore, painfully short and he doesn’t want her to cause herself pain. She’s already in too much pain and so, he calmly sits, clasping her hand and letting her squeeze his own tightly, letting those fingernails that he was so desperate to protect dig into his flesh creating indentations of crescent moons. 

“Stop. Stop!” Charles’ voice is loud and brazen as it breaks the silence in the room. “I’ve seen her before, I know I have.” He stops and as Andy looks at him, like all the others in the room he swears that he can see the cogs turning in the older man’s brain. “She was on the coach! She got on a couple of stops away from here and she wasn’t on the coach after the petrol station just like Louis.” He is exuberant and has found his way to his feet, stood, arms held out wide and a mile wide grin on his face. “That’s her; it has to be.”

“You’re positive this was the woman on your coach?” The officer in charge questions; seemingly unable to fully believe that this has actually worked. He, like the pessimistic boy he has learnt as Stan, believed that the car they were searching for would have been the only one who wasn’t registered to an identified driver. 

“I’m more sure of that being her than I am of my team winning the playoffs this season.” Charles’ voice is clear and holds a happiness that seems foreign to Jay’s ears.

“Find out her address.” The lead officer barks out the order to his colleagues who all leap into action and there’s a renewed sense of fight in everyone now.

“We’re getting there Haz, see? We’ll get him back.” Zayn presses himself closer into Harry’s side, a genuine smile sits on his lips now and he can see a little spark returning to the green fields of Harry’s eyes. 

Tense minutes pass, nobody moves very much; they’re all waiting for the address. The officer in charge has a team on standby; they’re ready to move in on the location as soon as he gives the order.

Only, it isn’t meant to be…

“There’s no registered address… I don’t understand… This can’t be right…” The officer in charge of the computer system mumbles to himself. 

“What?” 

“There’s no address sir, it says that it’s registered to a house in a town about 4 hours from here. But, when I’ve looked at it, the house is on an estate that was demolished last year; they were knocked down because they were deemed unsafe. So, there’s no saying where she lives now, she could be anywhere, someone’s not doing their job properly with these not having been updated.” 

“Well, it’s someone to start; I’ll send a team over there now to check it out.” He contacts the awaiting officers and then it’s just a case of waiting. 

“How long until your team gets there?” Paul asks, he’s been stood at the side of the room watching everything play out before him, he feels his own guilt growing within him. It’s his job, his and the rest of the security team, but he’s the head of the operation, it’s his job to ensure the safety of every member of the band. He had seen the light fading from Louis’ eyes just like everyone else and he kicks himself mentally for not doing something. He’s at fault and it hurts him to think that he’s failed.

“There’s a team stationed about 40 minutes from there. We should hear soon.”

“We’ve notified the local hospital and they’re on standby.” An officer speaks up and worry once more fills Harry where he’s wedged still between Liam and Zayn.

A door bangs open and voices call loudly down the corridor from outside. Lou barges her way down and joins them, her feet stomp loudly and everyone can tell that she’s enraged; it is only magnified by the expression on her face. She’s followed by the members of 5SOS who are all wearing similar expressions and all of them look tense and frustrated.

“What’s going on?” Paul asks, changing his stance and tensing himself, flexing the muscles in his arms unconsciously. 

“They’re vultures, bloody vultures the lot of them, shouting all sorts of things they were.” Lou is nearly shouting the words and her feet pace and stomp around the room, weaving their way through the furniture and throng of people. 

“What do you mean, who, who’s like a vulture?” Paul addresses Lou and walks over to her so that they’re side by side.

“The press, journos, they’re all out there. They must know that you are all in here. They were shouting all sorts of things, horrible ideas that Louis’ walked away from this, that he’s dead, that’s he’s a drunk. All these stories and lies and they’re like vultures Paul, they don’t stop, they don’t draw breath. They just peck and peck and peck and it’s no bloody wonder that something like this has happened.” Lou stops abruptly, her steam has seemingly run out. 

“They’re saying he’s dead? He’s not dead. Why would they say that?” Jay trembles, rising to her feet but drawing her body in to itself at the same time. “He’s not dead Dan, god, please, please tell me he’s not dead.” 

Dan takes her into his arms, his fiancée, and mother of a missing son and bizarrely his mind wanders and dreams of the day he has been waiting for, the day that he gets to make this woman, this brave and strong woman, his wife. He holds her form in his own and murmurs hushed whispers into her ear and repeatedly presses his lips to her hair. 

“He’s not dead sweetheart, he’s not dead, and we know this darling, you know this.” 

“Jay, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say all of that.” Lou hadn’t taken notice of who was in the room when she had started her tirade, she hadn’t cared who heard her, she just needed to vent her frustrations but now she’s kicking herself. She’s so cross with herself for not realising that Jay was there, of course Jay was there, she is Louis’ mother.

Jay doesn’t respond, she’s lost in thoughts, horrid wretched thoughts that she’s tried to push away.

Lou hugs Jay to her but Dan doesn’t let go, his arms remain loosely slung around his fiancée’s waist, he’s scared that if he lets go, even just for a second, she’ll slip away.

Together the people in the room continue to wait, all with baited breath, hope and wishes building in their minds, nobody can help themselves from thinking that soon this will all be over. Sure, there are those negative thoughts that linger, and maybe everyone should pay more attention to those, but everyone would rather pretend and convince themselves to believe that this is the moment they’ve all been waiting for. 

So, the occasional tear falls, the odd sniff fills the air, and everyone has some sort of physical connection with someone else; creating an endless link, and together they wait. 

\----------------------- 

And in a basement, hidden away in the depths of a demolished house, a young man waits too. Deprived of his senses and with pain filling his being; he has no concept of time and it has been a long time since he felt alive. Another mumbled and muffled moan falls into the room, he vaguely knows he made the noise but his ears don’t acknowledge it and there’s no one else there to hear it either, so maybe he didn’t make at all. Louis knows he’s alive, he half registers the ache of his arms and legs given the position they’re in but he can’t for the life of him bring himself to even begin to wonder why they are positioned the way they are. He has learnt by now that the ache is lessened if he just doesn’t move; if he lets his muscles and ligaments tense up and sure, the spasms are ridiculously painful and he clearly remembers the whimpers and groans that fell from his lips when that happened. 

For now though, there are no spasms, there’s just a lifetime of waiting. But he knows that one day the inevitable will happen and the waiting will end. So he waits, he can do no more, and he honestly believes with every essence of his being that what he is waiting for; is death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and enjoying. It makes me happy :) Next chapter will be up soon and there'll be more action.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this story, hope this chapter is okay! Thank you so so much for commenting, bookmarking and leaving kudos (as well as reading obviously!) Sorry for not replying to comments lately but real life has been annoying and I wanted to get this chapter written and posted as I'm going away for a week and don't have access to computers to write the next one. So it will be a bit of a wait but I promise there's an update coming and they'll be reunited (maybe ...) 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Louis’ whole body jars, his legs are shuddering and muscles seizing, he mumbles deliriously through the tape that’s fastened around his head, he’s not sure what he’s saying and he no longer remembers that there’s nobody there to hear it. The lack of reply or attention from the outside world doesn’t stop Louis and he continues to shift around, his arms are numb and he feels a panic build in him when he hears the sound of clinking metal. He doesn’t realise that it’s actually the chains that he is entrapped in moving around when he squirms his body. Instead he thinks that it’s a sign of someone approaching and lately he’s only known people as evil and cruel. He doesn’t want anyone near him and so he squirms more. He tries to wriggle his body away from what he believes to be another person but this simply causes the chains to rattle louder and faster. Clink clink clinkclinkclink. Faster and louder. The sounds increase and speed around his head, he can’t escape the sounds or the person. The chains continue to rattle louder and his heart beats faster. He can feel it pumping within him. He feels the beat against his skin and he thinks, he really believes, that it’s going to burst. He’s gasping and panting as best he can, given the gag. He is struggling to breathe now. His heart continues to pump louder and louder and he’s crying now. The tears have no where to go though and get stuck behind the tape, they tickle his eyes and he lets a whimper out when he can’t raise his arms to wipe them away. The movement just makes his arms hurt even more and he thrusts his head back and forth, back and forth, straining his neck, trying to shake his brain out, trying to shake the tears away. Frustrated and pained whines leave his voice but don’t make it to his ears. He thrusts his head and his nose is running now, wet is dribbling in his nostrils and it’s harder to breathe now. His head is feeling light now, he can’t breathe properly and it panics him more and he shakes his head from side to side now and rocking his body as best he can with it. That’s when he hears the loudest clang, he doesn’t realise it’s the sound of the knife falling innocently to the fall, it sounds so close that he’s sure he can actually feel the presence of the other person now. And then, it all fades out altogether, as he finally loses consciousness. 

\----------------------- 

The officer waits for his team to complete their inspection; just as they predicted, the building to which the car is registered is a rundown wreck, and the car isn’t there. 

His radio comes to life with a burst of static and he is relayed details of other officer’s inspections who all agree that there is no sign of either the car or woman.

He sighs, knowing that this case is going to be an irritant for the task force. Any case that involves press and public attention is just a nuisance for them and makes their job a million times more difficult than it should be. 

He waits for the rest of his colleagues to rejoin him and then they all get in the car together to head back to the station. The ride to the station is tense and broken intermittently by voices drifting over the radio; snippets and blurs of conversations shared by officers of the law. 

\----------------------- 

“There’s no sign of the car or Kylie Jackson. The officers have had a look around and they say the houses are all deserted. They’ve been demolished but they’re still standing so we’re organising for a team to go in with safety helmets and do some excavation and further checking.” The officer in charge tells the room and he feels an invisible hand clench around his heart when he sees all their faces drop with expressions of utter misery.

“I fucking knew it; knew not to get my fucking hopes up.” Niall stands up and without missing a beat Stan does the same. They’re shoulder to shoulder, both chests are heaving slightly with an inner fury. Communicating through simple looks in their eyes they both walk towards the exit of the lounge and Paul nods to a member of their security in a request to follow the pair. 

The two go outside and they’re assaulted by voices and the swarm of people who are gathered in waiting and they’re shouting question after question. Niall just focuses on his destination - the tour bus. He knows there are a couple of beers in there with his name on and maybe something stronger. He just has to get there, just has to keep going, plodding on, one foot in front of the other, get through the throng of people and he’s there.

Stan, however, isn’t accustomed to crowds like Niall is. Sure, he’s been with Louis and seen attention and he’s watched his friend hounded by media and fans over the years enough to know that it isn’t the easiest and most comfortable of things but he had never expected it to be this. The people are callous and rough, they push and shove, trying to get closer and closer, they’re in his face. They’re shouting and yelling, calling his names and feeding in Louis’ own in between words that sound too similar to “dead” and “missing” and “lost” and “depressed.” It makes Stan furious, it is driving him mad and he is struggling so much to keep up with Niall. He can see the boy’s blonde hair bob along as he pushes his way through the crowd ahead of him. Then Stan is trapped, there’s a wall of people around him, all still yelling and shouting.

“He’s not dead so take your fucking cameras and yourselves and go away. Leave us in peace! Help us find him and stop your bloody words. All you do is bang on and on and you never actually do anything positive. All you do is fucking drone on about shit that’s so depressing and pointless. You want a story? Go find my best friend and write your own god damn story that way. We can’t tell you shit because we know nothing, we have no idea where he is and you’re not helping anyone by being here. So just fuck off!” Stan’s voice bellows and it’s louder than he thinks he has ever shouted before. 

It does the trick though and everyone stops; there are no words spoken and no cameras click. 

Stan doesn’t know he’s crying until he feels the wetness and the tickle that always follows the release of tears. He doesn’t realise that he’s just stood unmoving in front of dozens of people until he feels someone tugging his arm. Then there’s security and Niall, thank god for Niall, who pulls him along and the crowd parts to let them through; everyone is still seemingly stunned into silence. 

“Here mate.” The next thing he’s aware of is Niall thrusting a cold beer bottle into his hand and Stan manages to make his hand work to clasp around it rather than letting it tumble to the floor. 

“Cheers Niall.” His voice doesn’t even sound like his own anymore; it sounds unfamiliar to his ears and his eyes are downcast. 

“You know, what you said out there, every word of it was true. It did the trick Stan. They’re leaving, well, some of them are anyway. Bloody vultures the lot of them at times.” Niall swigs his own beer and savours the few gulps before lowering the bottle once more.

“Still though, I shouldn’t have handled it like that, I’ve probably made things worse now, there’s going to be all sorts of stories now.” 

Niall dislikes the subdued tone in the normally upbeat boy and he moves to sit beside Stan. He nudges his knee to bang against Stan’s own and says, “There’s always a story though mate and like I said, it’s true what you said, and don’t worry about anything being written about you. It’s understandable that you’d tell them all where to go when they’re just hounding like that. Nothing good was being done by them being here and everyone knows it.” 

“I just can’t stand this, feels like I’m going to explode or something, I can’t believe it’s come to this.” Stan drains his beer and moves to the fridge, collects as many bottles as he can carry and returns to Niall’s side, and just after they uncap the next bottle, they clink them together and drink to Louis. 

\----------------------- 

Louis wakes up, dazed and alone, so there’s nothing new there. His throat is so sore; it feels like there’s something scraping it every time he swallows. He tries to yell, hoping that there’ll be someone to answer his pleas for help, but terrifyingly, no sound at all comes from his taped lips. This scares him and he tries again, pushing the air in his lungs out with as much force as he can but still no sound comes. Something else does though; the force of his efforts has left his crotch wet and with a humiliated silent sob he registers that he’s wet himself. The shame overpowers him; even though he knows he’s alone it still hurts him to lose even more of his dignity and he wishes he could end it all now. The smell of his own urine wafts up to his nose and the whole scenario makes him want to vomit. He feels the swirl that comes before the sickness rising in his chest. He knows, even in his confused state of mind, that with the gag on his face he would choke to death if he were to throw up. Yet, just as his brain tells him that this would be alright; that this would be the answer to all of his problems, he hears a little voice. This voice sounds like Harry, the slow dulcet tone is nearly identical and it stops Louis’ movements entirely. His body begins to relax and the horrid swirling feeling leaves him. Louis can’t make out what the voice is saying but he doesn’t care; he chooses to believe that it really is Harry and allows himself to take comfort in it. 

The voice continues and Louis sits, arms and legs still bent horridly and he lets his mind float away, knowing that his body cannot follow.   
\----------------------- 

“Really? What good are you two doing by getting blind drunk?” Paul is close to yelling, his voice is loud and it’s clear to everyone that he’s cross. 

Everyone in the lounge had heard Stan’s voice screaming at the gathered crowd but none had ventured out because they didn’t want to draw more attention to themselves but the security guard who was with them had contacted Paul and reassured him that Stan was now safely tucked on the tour bus along with Niall. 

Eventually they had all moved and joined them on the bus; each one of them relieved that the amount of people outside had dwindled down so that no more than a dozen remained. 

“Paul, just lay off them yeah?” Liam asks from where he’s wrapped his arm around the Irish boy’s shoulders.

“What good am I doing here not blind drunk?” Niall slurs in reply. 

“It’s not exactly helpful though is it?” Paul replies, tugging a hand through his hair.

“But I haven’t helped anyway, I should have helped Lou, he’s needed our help for ages and I didn’t. I never helped him and now this has happened. And…” Stan speaks softly, his words are a murmured mixture of sounds but everyone understands them. It seems as though he’s not talking to anyone else besides himself even though he is answering Paul’s question. 

“Look. It’s fine, okay? They wanted a drink so they had one. It’s all good now, yeah? Just no more lads eh?” Zayn speaks for the first time and his eyes are warm and exude a calmness that comforts Stan. 

Stan shrugs himself upwards and misses the way that Dan holds a hand to steady him. He moves his way, carefully planting his feet through the people in his way until he reaches Zayn. 

“Always knew why Lou said you were clever.” Stan lets himself fall onto Zayn and the smaller boy accepts the body gracefully, rearranging Stan in his arms and hugging him close. 

Harry is sitting by himself away from everyone else but Lou is hovering nearby. His voice is hushed when he asks, “Why are we still here?”

“What do you mean love?” Lou asks with her eyes unable to leave his body that seems to be curling into itself. 

“Like, why aren’t we trying to find him, or going to that house, or doing something, instead of just sitting her in a fucking petrol station?” Louis’ mobile is still held like a precious gem in his hand. 

“The police say that there’s no point in us moving mate, they’ve checked the house and there’s no sign of Louis.” Paul responds.

“But, what is the point in us waiting here? He could be anywhere so that house, even if he isn’t there, is the last known address of the car so it’s surely better than here?” Dan voices his own opinion in support of Harry and Paul opens his mouth to dispute it but then realises that there is logic in the words. 

“I’ll see what I can do.” With that Paul exits the bus and they can all see his figure moving off to meet the officers who are stationed around their vehicles. 

Jay watches, still holding a tight grip onto Dan’s hand, her other is clenched around the stone hanging around her neck; Louis bought her a necklace a few years back and she has treasured it ever since. It’s the closest thing she has to her son right now and she is determined to keep holding on to it for as long as she possibly can as she’s terrified that should she let go, all hopes of getting her boy back will disappear too. 

Not much time at all passes and Paul is rejoining them. 

“They have given us the go ahead; they say that waiting here is the same as waiting there and like Dan said, there’s a higher chance of Louis being found up that way than there is of him being found around here.” 

The tour bus driver starts the engine but before he sets off he notices a figure approaching the doors and without missing a beat he opens them and allows the man on board.

Charles approaches Louis’ family and friends and his eyes flicker over each of the individuals until they rest upon the boy he was looking for. 

“Son, this is for you,” Harry raises his eyes when he hears Charles’ voice and they fall questioningly on the object held in his outstretched crinkle lined palm. “I know it don’t look like much but, well, my wife, it’s the thing she gave me when I went for my first job interview. She gave me it as good luck and, well, I got the job and worked on the coaches for 53 years. Maybe it was just old fate or blind luck but I believe that it was this. I wore it every single day and never once did I crash.” His voice is strong and it wavers slightly with the emotion clear behind the words. Everyone is watching the pair now. “When she gave me it, she told me that it would keep me safe, and it did.” He smiles now, sad and full of memories but it’s the happiness that twinkles fondly in his eyes that makes Harry stand upright. “I want you to have it, take it and let it keep you safe, and when you find your boy, you pass it to him and he can use it for a while. An old man like me ain’t got reason to have it anymore. I’m just passing the days until I see my Catherine again.” 

Charles doesn’t wait for Harry to respond; instead he just puts the rope thread around his head and lowers it until it sits on top of Harry’s own necklaces. 

Harry has no idea what to say and he can’t seem to work out how to open his mouth to make any noise anyway. 

With a chuckle Charles turns away, walks to the exit of the bus but then he twists his body around so he faces the group once again. His voice is louder and clearer than they have ever heard it and with determination glowing on his features he says, “The Louis that I saw, he can get through this; all you have to do is get him home.” With that, Charles Miller is gone, and Harry remains standing. 

\----------------------- 

The team have their hard hats on and are about to enter the demolition site. Around them there is a mass of debris; all chopped up wood and metal, there’s dust and grime. Some parts of the houses remain standing but it is chaos. The residential area once contained 70 houses and there was even a block of flats adjacent to them as well. The team begin to enter the building registered to the car owner, Kylie, they move carefully and slowly so as not to cause shock to the ruins surrounding them. It takes them a little over an hour to clear the house and still there is no trace of anybody, never mind the missing Louis Tomlinson. 

They exit the house and wipe the sweat created by exertion from their foreheads. 

“What’s to say that they didn’t use a different house?” 

“But that would mean searching every one of these damn things.”

“It’s our job…”

“No, our job was to search this premises, which we’ve done, and we found nothing so job’s over boys. Let’s pack up and head out.”

“You wouldn’t stop if it was your own son in there.”

“We don’t know that anyone is in there and who knows what I’d do.”

“Don’t kid yourself mate, course you wouldn’t stop, if it was your boy.”

“Yeah, but it ain’t, instead it’s some rich kid who apparently don’t even appreciate his life and luxuries. We don’t even know that he is in there anyways. I got my own family to go home too. So let’s go.” The captain sends out his orders and expects his excavation team to follow them. He’s hot and tired and he can feel the sweat dripping down his back and sticking to his uniform. He begins to walk back to their truck only to find that nobody is following him.

“You all gone deaf all of a sudden? I said let’s move out!”

“With all due respect, sir,” The tone is heaped with scorn, “We’re looking for a missing kid, rich or not, he’s got a family and friends and a life to get back to and I’m not about to let go of this one. So, fire me or do what you got to do, I’m not leaving until I’ve hunted every goddamn house here.” With that and a quick affectionate glance at his wedding band Tim Kayle puts his helmet back on and begins to approach the next builder. A smile of satisfaction and approval forms on his face when he hears others of their team fall in to step behind them.   
\----------------------- 

Harry is sitting, the left hand side of his head leaning against the window pane, squashing his unkempt curls. His eyes are unseeing as they stare out to the world beyond the glass, he doesn’t see the bumpy tarmac or the houses that guide the road; instead they see the blue eyed boy his heart longs for. In one large hand he continues to cradle Louis’ phone and the other is held firmly around the wolf that dangles from the necklace. 

Stan and Niall are dozing now, passed out from their fill of alcohol and Zayn can’t resist having a giggle and taking a photograph to capture the moment that drool runs freely from the blonde’s mouth. 

“Zayn. Behave.” Liam chastises fondly when he looks over to see Zayn writing some sort of caption before posting to twitter.

“Relax Liam,” Zayn’s drawls, feeling the most relaxed he has for a while after having just returned from hanging out the window with a sloppily rolled cigarette, “The fans will love this, it’ll show them that we’re not all going crazy like these two nutters did earlier.” 

Liam can’t help but grin when he listens to Zayn describe Niall as a nutter but then he takes in the amount of clothes and snapbacks that are littered around the bus, all with the words “CRAZY MOFOS” emblazoned on and he can only chuckle and nod his head. 

“Just be thankful that I’m not doodling all over them.” Zayn smirks at Liam.

“I’m genuinely surprised you’re not to be honest.” Liam replies gently and then conversation fades out and the pair sits enjoying one another’s company. 

Their peace and quiet is interrupted when Paul’s phone rings, the shrill tone injects the atmosphere with an unexplained tension and somehow, everyone knows what they’re about to be told before the words are spoken. 

\----------------------- 

Tim wants to give up, he really does, he’s boiling hot and he’s worn out. 17 houses have been thoroughly checked, they’ve hauled away debris left behind from stairs and furniture, they’ve pushed their way passed countless loose stones and had to shovel their way through rubble. But, no matter how exhausted he and his team are, they won’t stop until they either find Louis or every house has been examined. 

“Eighteenth time’s a charm…” One of his guys says as he puts his hat back on his head and starts approaching the house. 

Every single house has looked the same when they have approached it and every single house has been the same on the inside; dirty, messy and without any sign of a 21 year old man. 

“Tell you what, if that’s true, beers are on me.” Tim states and shakes his head with a grin when cheers fall from the mouths of his team. 

They move into the house and once again, infuriatingly, there is no immediate sign of Kylie, her husband or Louis. 

“This place sure does look a little cleaner than the last mind you.” Tim’s voice is loud to get over the sound of people cleaning a path through the scattered rubble. 

“Hold on, does this or does this not look like there was a laptop here?” A voice to Tim’s left sounds so excited that it has Tim leaping over to join him in a matter of seconds.

“Shit, it does, someone’s been here, and recently!” Tim exclaims and can’t help the automatic smile of joy that graces his face. “This is it, it has to be, guys we need to scour every inch of this place. Even if they aren’t here there has to be some sign of more activity which can clue us into how recently someone was here and who they were.” 

With renewed fervour the team moves around, they wind through the corridors to the destroyed but still standing kitchen area, through to the living room, up the stairs precariously and examine every nook and cranny of the bedrooms and bathrooms. 

“I could have sworn this would be it.” Mutters Tim, beginning to lose his enthusiasm, he really was starting to believe that this was the house. 

“I’ve found something!” A voice from the ground floor has the team all hurrying to join. 

Tim arrives to his colleague’s side to see him kneeling down over a hatch in the floor. 

“There’s a padlock on here and that’s suspect if anything.” 

“Well, what are we waiting for boys, get cutting that open!” Tim orders and immediately bolt cutters are carried in and the lock is snipped in minutes. 

The hatch opens to reveal a set of stairs. 

“You do realise that if there isn’t anything in here we’re going to have to go back to the other houses and check that we haven’t missed any more of these.” One worker mutters aloud and everyone groans exasperatedly in response. 

“Well, let’s not worry about that yet until we’ve looked down here, so cross your fingers everyone.” Tim states and is the first one to start the careful descent down the rickety staircase. 

There are four rooms that lead off from corridors and each one has a padlocked bolt on it. 

“Let’s start with door number one then.” Tim sighs, wondering why nothing is ever simple. 

The padlock is snipped and the bolt drawn. The door is opened and there is a filthy bathroom in front of them. 

“Shower looks cleaner than the sink; I’d say it was used recently.” One colleague says and Tim murmurs his agreement. 

“Well he sure isn’t in here, so, let’s try door number two.” 

The bolt cutters are taken to the padlock on door number two and then the bolt is slid open. Tim pushes at the door and his stomach feels like it drops to his feet when his eyes swallow in the site of the boy on the bed.

“Call an ambulance and call the police chief. We’ve found him!” Tim barks the orders as his feet are already carrying him to Louis’ side. 

“Holy shit.”

“Fucking hell!”

“My God.”

These are just some of the words that Tim hears but does not pay attention to. His eyes and focus is purely set on the form of Louis Tomlinson. He can see the matted brown hair and knows it to be the same shade as the boy’s in the photograph he had examined prior to the search. Tape covers half of the boys face; pressed tightly and wound around his eyes and mouth. The legs are horrifically pale, the arms are too probably, Tim surmises; but he can’t see those because of the t-shirt covering Louis’ top half. His arms are drawn behind his back and legs bent and pushed to the side and back to connect with his wrists. Tim knows the risks to the boy’s blood circulation and the blood drained colour of the skin increases his concerns. 

“Bolt cutters now!” He commands, “We have to get these chains cut!” 

It takes a long time, the chains are twisted and wrapped several times around the thin boy’s body, the wind their way around the cuffs that Tim realises with a gulp are fixed to the boy. He doesn’t dwell on those however; he knows that they aren’t of an immediate concern. While the chains are being cut he works on delicately and slowly removing the tape. The boys eyelids remain closed the tape comes over and Tim has to force himself to gently lift one upwards, he winces with dismay when he sees the infection and grit. The lips are unbelievably chapped and Tim hates himself when he realises that he’s pulled a lot of skin off with the tape because they were so dry. The lips bleed now, and he reaches for the water in his pack and begins to dab them, trying to trickle as much of the cool liquid into the boy’s mouth as possible. The hand not holding the bottle tenderly strokes Louis’ throat in an effort to persuade the boy to swallow. 

\-----------------------   
Louis feels hands flitting all over him now and jolts with a panic. The last hands he had on his skin were those of the evil man who had done this to him and he doesn’t want anymore harm. He remembers, through his dazed and startled mind, about the knife that was left balance embarrassingly on his crotch. He tries to twists his arms to somehow dislodge it and take a hold of the weapon, intending to stab into his own body with as much force as he can muster and end it all, but his arms don’t work. He can’t move them. He can’t feel them, he can’t feel the cuffs that he knows must still be dug into his wrists, he can’t feel the ache of his bent knees. He tries to cry out with the panic but he still can’t make any sound. He’s in a real life nightmare when it dawns upon him that he is a prisoner in his own body.

\----------------------- 

Tim watches the way the boy jerks awake and he tries to ensure that his hands are soothing and friendly, but it’s no good, Louis continues to panic and his eyelids flutter but don’t open. His lips move and wisps of air come out in the form of words and sounds. Tim presses his ear to the lips and listens as “Help me,” “Please” and “Die now” are whispered. 

“You are not going to die son, you’re safe now, and every thing will be okay. You’re safe Louis. You’re safe.” Tim speaks the words clearly and tries to put as much confidence in them as he can. His arms rub at Louis’ shoulders, mindful of the wounds, and he honestly doesn’t know what else to do as he waits for the chains to be cut. 

Eventually, the last link of chain is cut and together the team works to lower and unfold Louis’ bent knees. The wrists are still bound to each other by the cuffs that seem to be somehow welded onto the boy’s appendages but the legs can be straightened out so they all try and massage the limbs to get the blood flowing properly. 

\----------------------- 

To Louis it feels like a thousand knives replacing the numbness that had filled him for so long. He wants to scream but nothing comes out and he feels the hand still pushing at his body. His mouth opens once more, wide and he can’t close his jaw to stop the air rushing out of him, the pain is so intense and foreign to him. Louis suddenly realises through the delirium that perhaps this is the moment that he has long awaits for and with the thought of it all being finally over, he lets go. 

\----------------------- 

“The ambulance is here!” The shout from upstairs bellows down and reaches the ears of the team members who are gathered around Louis. They have all been trying to get the blood circulating to the pale limbs once more but had paused when Louis awoke. They watched with fury clawing in their hearts as Louis’ whole body had shook and his jaw had opened so wildly that they believed it would click out of place. Tim is the only one close enough though to hear the word “Finally” fall from the bleeding lips.

\-----------------------   
Paul has to stop himself from dropping his phone and falling to the floor. He doesn’t spare any explanation to everyone’s questioning eyes before bellowing to the driver, “Newlands Royal Infirmary, they’re on their way there, we need to go there.” The words tumble from his mouth and shock everyone into action. Paul sinks into a chair just as his legs give out, “They’ve found him; they’ve found Louis!”


	8. Chapter 8

The tour bus pulls up to the parking lot of the hospital and Harry barges his way through the doors as they open, brushing his shoulder harshly and he has to stumble to stop himself from falling over, he ignores the sting of pain from the contact though and continues his way into the reception area. 

“Louis” He pants from the rush and adrenaline, “Louis Tomlinson, where is he?”

“I’m afraid there’s nobody here registered under that name.” The woman behind the counter answers insipidly. 

“You’re mistaken, I know he’s here, Louis Tomlinson, or Lewis, but it’ll be Louis, Louis.” Harry’s stumbling and tripping over his words now, he’s adamant that Louis’ here and he tries to free himself when he feels hands trying to pull him away from the woman at the desk. 

“Haz, Harry, maybe he just hasn’t arrived yet, okay?” Paul tugs Harry further away from the desk and passes him off to Liam who is waiting with arms outstretched. Together the pair, Harry still being dragged along by Liam, to the seats that line the walls making up the waiting area in front of the reception desk.

Niall and Stan are awake now and Zayn is watching them carefully; considering whether or not he should try and get them to drink some water or if he’d be better off fetching them a bucket to share.

Jay’s at the desk now, just about to ask where her son is, when static buzzes from the radio controlled by the woman. The woman holds up a finger to Jay, silencing her before she can even form any words, and instead focuses her attention upon the information that is being fed through. 

“This is Ambulance Twenty-Three, requesting immediate medical assistance, arrival time ETA two minutes, male, 21 years, moderate malnutrition and dehydration, suffering from infection… Showing signs of severe hypotension and gone into shock. His BP is lower then expected…” 

The woman behind the counter bustles into life, replies with a sharp “Received, medical personnel waiting” and then excuses herself from Jay before the poor mother can even ask where her son is.

Jay feels bewildered; why is nobody helping them? Louis’ apparently been found and he’s so close, it’s as if she was in fingertip distance but they’re being separated once more. It frustrates her and she lets out a low growl before beginning to pace in front of where everyone else is sitting. 

Dan watches his fiancée from his seat, he does not even know how to go about trying to comfort her right now, it angers him that they were so close to Louis, only to seemingly have it all ripped away from them yet again.

Niall’s watching everything through a hazy vision; thanks to the amount of beer he consumed earlier, and the sudden piercing shrill of an ambulance siren approaching has his head spinning even more. However, Niall would promise anyone in doubt that there is no sight more sobering than that of seeing someone you consider family being rolled passed you looking as if they are no longer breathing.

“Louis…” Jay exhales as her eyes gulp in the sight of her only son; his face marred by blood stains, his eyes closed and swollen, he’s lying on his side as he’s rolled passed. Jay drinks in his appearance and she thinks that the image will haunt her in nightmares for the rest of her days. Louis’ body is covered by a thin grey blanket but Jay doesn’t need it to be removed to know that the body of her son is a lot thinner than the last time she saw him. 

“No, Lou, Louis,” Harry’s back on his feet and they’re chasing the stretcher as it’s rolled away from him quickly, “Where are you taking him? Is he okay? Louis!” It may well be the fastest that Harry has ever spoken but nobody is listening to him it seems so they fall unanswered on the air. 

Stan has had his head bent down towards the floor and his eyes have been closed since they arrived at the hospital. He opened them though when he heard the commotion that followed the ambulance’s arrival. His eyes caught one glimpse of his best friend and he loses the battle with his stomach, vomit spilling from him but Dan seems to have been prepared for such an occurrence and thrusts a waste basket in front of him. 

Forty seven seconds. Liam halts his counting then when Louis’ stretcher is no longer visible, forty seven seconds and he savoured every single one. Forty seven seconds is how long it took for them to bring Louis into the hospital, into their line of sight, and then take him away again. He watches, it feels as though he’s borrowed someone else’s eyes though because it all feels so distorted, he watches Harry collapse to the floor with body wracking sobs, he watches as Zayn drops to his knees and huddles close to the younger boy. He watches as Dan rubs Stan’s back and he watches as Niall fights to stop himself from being sick. He watches as Paul gets to his feet and meanders away to the other side of the waiting room to make some calls away from the noise of Harry’s cries. He watches as Jay marches to the woman who has returned to the desk and he watches as her lips move; a mother inquiring about her son. He sees the lips move and he observes the anguish plastered on her face but he doesn’t care for the words. All Liam knows, is that it took forty seven seconds for his life to gain meaning. He sits and waits as time moves on, it carries him with it whether he wants it to or not, he has never felt more out of sync. It took forty seven seconds for him to realise that there is nothing more important in life than those who you can call your friends and family; and when one of those is threatened, their existence being debated by whatever powers that are at work, nothing else matters. There is no amount of money or inanimate object or materialistic item that can rival the life and presence of a loved one. A tear falls from Liam’s eye when he thinks that it has taken all of this, Louis going missing and all of the worry and panic that comes hand in hand with that, to make him realise just how important the people in his life are.

He pulls his phone from his pocket and dials a familiar number, Danielle, and he waits with baited breath for her to answer; hoping with all of his might that the phone call will last longer than forty seven seconds. 

“I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you anything about your son’s condition until the Doctors know more. He’s a new patient and an emergency arrival, they’re working with him now, we should hear something soon.” The woman speaks in a monotonous voice; Jay can’t quite bring herself to believe that another human can actually be so blasé about someone’s life; even if this is her job and it’s familiar. After all, it’s familiar to Jay, being a nurse she is used to hospitals and the people who come and go from them, some leaving healthy and some not. But, never, never, has Jay allowed herself to feel complacent with it all. They’re people, the patients that are admitted, every one of them has a place in the world and she wants to shake the woman who is chewing gum repulsively on the other side of the desk; she stops herself though and decides to just walk away, retreating back to the seats and sinking down beside Liam. 

“Excuse me,” Paul’s off the phone now and addressing the receptionist, “The boy that was just brought in, he’s a member of One Direction and there are a lot of fans who are aware that he’s just been brought here. Is it possible to get him somewhere secure?” 

The woman looks at him uninterestedly and continues to chew her gum in the same way a cow would chew its grass.

“The police need to get in touch for something like that. If they call then of course, but if not, then there’s nothing we can do.” The reply is short and to the point. 

“They’ll be in touch.” Paul dismisses the woman and walks away, anger coursing through him and her coldness.

“Haz, come on, let’s get off the floor yeah? We’ll have a seat and it’ll be comfier than this. There’s nothing we can do until they tell us how Lou is so come on.” Zayn stands up and pulls the unresponsive boy with him. 

Harry vaguely feels the vibrating body of his mobile in his pocket but it doesn’t dawn on him that he should answer it. He just lets it ring and ring until it stops, there’s a moment of silence and then it begins again. He’s sat motionless and can feel the hand of someone else slipping into his pocket to retrieve the continuously ringing phone. He hears as someone answers it and then listens in a daze as Paul murmurs to whoever is on the other end of the call. Moments pass, then the phone is fed back into his body, whoever is replacing it manipulates his body to fit it in the pocket. 

“Harry, mate,” A solid feeling hand is clapped gently onto his shoulder and he registers Paul’s presence now, “That was your mum, apparently people know Louis’ been found, she’s on her way here now; told me to let you know she’ll be here in a few hours.”

\----------------------- 

The lead officer from the petrol station has arrived at the hospital and confirmed to the receptionist that which Paul had already told her and the group find themselves in a private waiting room. There’s a few sofas and other chairs neatly organised along the bland walls but the thing that all of their attention is focussed on is the glass window cut into one wall. The blinds are drawn on the other side but they all know that Louis is on the other side. They do not know his condition; only that he is stable for the time being. 

“I just want to know if he’s going to be alright, why won’t they tell us Zayn?” Zayn has glued himself to Harry’s side, determined to not leave the younger alone, and his heart feels heavy when his eyes see the lip wobble and hears the crack in the low voice. 

Just as Zayn is about to reply, some pointless comment about how the medical team will be doing all they can, the door to Louis’ room opens. Everyone waiting jumps to their feet and disappoint flows heavily through each of them when the Doctor closes the door behind him, preventing them from capturing a glimpse of their Louis. 

“Family of Louis Tomlinson I presume?” The doctor’s voice sounds a lot kinder to Jay’s ears than that of the receptionist; she’s glad that he’s looking after her son. 

They all nod, desperately waiting but dreading whatever he is about to tell them. 

“Have a seat,” Seeing panic and fear burst in to their faces the Doctor reaches out his hands in a placating gesture and continues hurriedly, “He’s okay, he’s alive, but there’s just a lot for me to say and no offence, but you all look like it’s a case of sit down or fall down. So please,” He gestures to the seats, “Sit yourselves down, I’ll fill you in on his condition and we’ll sort out you seeing him.” 

Everyone is sitting now, so many eyes fixated on the Doctor, waiting with nervousness for what he is about to tell them.

“Louis is suffering from some malnutrition and dehydration; it appears that he’s quite underweight but we’ve got him on a drip and we’re working to get some fluids into him. He’s got quite a lot of cuts around his skin, some are superficial and should heal without much chance of scarring, there are however, a few deeper ones but it is possible to organise skin grafts for those. The main thing is though that they have all been treated properly now. There are indications that Louis’ suffering from shock at the moment as he has not woken up yet, but given the trauma that he has been through as well as the dehydration, it isn’t surprising so we are doing all we can for that.” He pauses and his eyes flitter between the people sat before him as he gives them time to digest everything he has told them. He continues, taking a deep breath, “The most worrying thing however is his eyes, it appears they are badly infected, I have to warn you that even though it is unlikely there is a change that he will lose some sight.” He watches as their faces crumble and tears are spilt, gasps are heard and he hears the woman mumble “My boy,” “Boo” and he deduces that she must be his mother. His feet take him closer to her and he bends down so that his eyes are level with hers, “I assure you, we’re doing all we can to get your son better, it’s going to be a long journey but it seems he’s got a good group of people to support him. Let my team tidy him up a little more and then you should be able to see him.” 

“Why was he on his side?” Zayn can’t stop the words from spilling out of his mouth but they’re spoken now and so he continues, “Like, on the stretcher, he was on his side, normally people are on their backs; was he being sick?” 

The Doctor allows himself a grim smile and looks to face the young man, “It wasn’t because he was being sick no, he was found with his wrists cuffed behind his back, we have been able to separate them now but it appears that both his wrists and ankles have cuffs fixed on him, the metal seems to have been glued or welded together.”

“What?” Zayn can’t fully understand or believe what the Doctor is telling them. 

“The cuffs can be removed, but that was not an immediate priority and we aren’t going to do anything until we’re sure that he is stable. We have treated the abrasions caused by them as well as we possibly can at this point to stave off further infections.” The Doctor tries not to let the group know that it is going to be a fairly risky procedure to remove the cuffs but he sees the fear in their expressions regardless. 

“When can I see my son?” Jay’s voice is quiet but it rings loudly in the silent room.

“Give me a few minutes and I’ll let you know.” With that the Doctor retreats and lets himself back into Louis’ hospital room, closing the door swiftly behind him.

\----------------------- 

Louis can feel the hands, they’re too close, pressing into his skin and each touch lingers, he isn’t sure that he can ever fully brush away the feeling. 

He hears the voices that drift around his ears but he doesn’t care for them, he doesn’t listen to realise that they aren’t the cold sounds of the evil man and woman, he doesn’t have any interest; all he knows is that he doesn’t want to hear them. So he lets go, lets them fade away once more until they just become a soft quiver of noise breaking through the air. 

\----------------------- 

The Doctor looks down at Louis; a fondness brewing in his heart as he tries to understand how there can be anybody so cruel to want to inflict harm on such a young person. He watches quietly while one of the nurses cleanses the swollen eyes, wiping them with cotton wool pads of cool water before bandaging them with clean gauze dosed in ointment. 

\----------------------- 

Louis feels the wince that cuts through him when something connects with his eyes, the pain doesn’t register but he knows it is there, he feels the pressure and it scares him. He feels something being wrapped around his head once more and he wants to stop them, he wants to push the hands away, he wants to yell at them to let go of him. He manages to open his mouth but the moment he does, the second that he lets go, he realises he has no control. 

\----------------------- 

They’re waiting, there’s not much sound, only the combined sniffs of the group who are trying so hard to keep themselves together. It all changes though when a distressed hoarse scream cuts through the air. Everyone’s eyes turn to the door, they all know that it’s Louis and the horror behind the scream sends a shudder through them. 

“My baby, my boo, Louis. Oh God Dan what have they done to him? What have they done to my son?” Jay trembles, tears turning her eyes red. 

\----------------------- 

The Doctor pulls the needle from the IV, waits with baited breath for the sedative to take effect and the boy’s cries to stop, before exiting the room. 

He’s met with the group, all on their face and approaching him quickly, desperate now to see Louis. 

“He’s alright, his eyes were being cleansed and bandaged and it seems like he awoke to some pain. We’ve administered a sedative so he’ll be unconscious for some time now but he needs all of the rest he can get. I know that you’re all desperate to see him, so I’m going to forego the usual rule of two people in the room at a time.” When one of the young men tries to step passed him in a hurry to get into the room he quickly adds, “Please don’t make me change my mind. You can all go in and usual visiting hours don’t apply given the circumstances, but” He makes eye contact with every person stood before him, “If my team need to work on him, you move, it’s for his good; we’re trying to help him so please don’t stop us from doing our jobs. Understood?” 

They all nod and murmur their consent; desperation distracting them from saying much else. 

Nodding to himself in response he leads them to Louis’ hospital room door and allows them in to the large room. 

\----------------------- 

They walk in and it takes a minute for it to dawn on them that the figure lying prone on the bed is indeed their Louis. His eyes are wrapped in a clean white bandage that winds its way around his whole head and the rest of his body is submerged under a hospital duvet. Louis’ arms are resting on the bed, an IV running into the left one and there are more bandages wrapped around his wrists. 

“Lou.” Harry cries and stumbles to Louis’ bedside, he presses his lips to his boyfriend’s temple as gently as he possibly can, he has to stop himself from hugging the smaller boy. 

“Boo” Jay approaches Louis’ other side, her eyes drinking in the sight of her son lying in the bed, “We’re here now baby, mum’s here now and so are your boys, you’re safe now love.” 

“I’ll leave you with him, there’s a call button just there,” The Doctor indicates to the button, “Please do not hesitate to press it if you want someone to come but I’ll have my team check on him regularly. Try to keep your voices quite loud, don’t worry about waking him up right now because of the sedative but when it begins to wear off we don’t want him panicking so make sure he’ll be able to recognise who is in the room with him.” 

With that the Doctor leaves and the occupants in the room simply continue to stare at the unconscious boy before them. 

Paul watches as Stan and Niall hover back, away from Louis, while Liam and Zayn join Harry and murmur their won quiet words into Louis’ ear. 

“He looks so different,” Harry whispers, his arm rubbing soothingly against Louis’ arm that rests above the covers. 

“He’s still the same, love, he is, he has to be.” Jay sniffs and slides her fingers across Louis’ temple and gently strokes through his hair. 

“But look at him, it’s like he’s barely here anymore, he’s so pale and thin.” Harry can’t hold the sobs back anymore but he finds himself immediately tugged into the safe and comforting arms of Liam and Zayn. 

“Harry, please love, don’t be negative okay? We all need to keep positive for Lou. We have to help him.” Jay is still stroking her hand through her son’s brown hair, it feels soft entwined between her fingers and she swipes away the few locks that have fallen to cover his forehead. 

“I’m going to take these two and grab some coffee, anyone want anything bringing back?” Paul stands from where he’s been perched on the couch in the room, and moves over to pull Stan and Niall to their feet. 

“Some tea would be good if you could mate?” Dan asks, standing just behind Jay with a hand of support resting on her shoulder, just watching transfixed on her mothering touches. 

“Sure, we’ll be back soon, come on you two.” With that, Paul wanders from the room with two quiet boys following along behind him.

“Louis, love, mum’s here, I’m with you now and you’re going to be okay.” Jay whispers into her son’s ear and allows her eyes to take in the rest of him, her hands tentatively feel the bandages wrapped around his wrists and she feels full of sickness when she feels the raised metal of the cuffs that someone has fixed on to her boy. 

“We’re here Lou, not leaving you again mate, take all the time you need to sleep, we’re not leaving you.” Liam’s voice is the loudest out of all of them so far, he’s making sure that his voice is loud enough for it to be distinctive enough for Louis to recognise if he were to awake.

“Yeah babe, and when you’ve had a good sleep for once, all you have to do is say ZAP and I’ll make it happen.” Zayn copies Liam and speaks clearly, letting his voice waft through everyone’s ears and hoping that Louis recognises that he’s safe. 

“I love you Lou.” Harry’s voice trembles and breaks and he lowers his curly mop until it rests on the bed next to Louis’ arm. He presses lingering kisses down the limb until he reaches the bandaged wrist; skipping over it he takes the small hand in his own and cradles it gently. 

Not much happens, the five continue to sit gathered around Louis’ bedside and no words are really spoken. Their silence is broken when Paul returns, with Niall and Stan in tow, both of whom are looking far more sober. Hot drinks are handed around and then Stan is beside Jay.

“Hey mate, always with the dramatics,” Stan’s voice is affectionate and Jay turns her head to give the boy she has long considered a second son a weak smile, “You’re alright now.” Stan lets his hand linger on Louis’ shoulder and then wraps his other around Jay’s slightly trembling shoulders. “He’s in safe hands now Jay, they’ll fix him up here, best place for him to be.”

“Aw Louis,” Everyone turns their attention to Lou who has just walked into the hospital room. She heads straight over to Harry’s side and hugs him into her body gently, ensuring his touch on Louis is not broken, “Anne’s just been on the phone love, her plane has just landed and she’s on her way here.” 

“Has it been that long already?” Harry has had no concept of time ever since Louis first went missing and he feels torn between deciding whether it’s all been a quick blur of drama or whether it’s been a lifetime of waiting for his lover to be found. 

“Yeah, I think they’re going to check into the hospital, I just came to let you know that me and the others are off to take all of your things there for whenever you want to get freshened up.” Lou’s voice is soft and Harry appreciates her presence. 

“Paul, what’s wrong?” Niall’s voice is concerned and eyes glance at him before meeting those of Paul who has just re-entered the room despite nobody noticing his departure.

“They’ve found the vehicle from the CCTV but it was abandoned. The police are looking into it; they’ve found a laptop and some other items that they think may be able to give them some indication of where the bastards have gone.” Paul’s voice cuts through the air sounding harsher at the end than it was at the beginning. The protectiveness that Harry hears within their security manager’s voice leads him to wrapping Louis’ hand more tightly within his own. 

“The police will find them, don’t worry about that, it’s their job and they found Louis. We shouldn’t worry about them for now, let the police do their jobs and we’ll work on getting this one better.” Dan lowers himself onto the couch as his words trail off and his eyes are fixed on the forms of Jay and Louis still. 

Harry feels sleep creeping up on him and he allows himself to close his eyes and lets the voices of his friends waft around him as he drifts off to sleep. 

\----------------------- 

“I think we’re going to have to pry Harry off Louis sometime.” Anne’s voice trickles into Harry’s ears and he hears the faint amusement in her words. 

“Yeah, he’s definitely not letting go of him anytime soon.” Stan replies from where he’s lounging on a chair near Louis’ beside. 

“I think we’re all going to need prying away from Lou for a long time to come though.” Liam is very close to Harry now and Harry can feel his breath fluttering on to the skin on his neck and raising the small hairs there.

“Love you Lou.” Harry mumbles and snuggles his head closer into Louis’ arm.

Chuckles sound out from various occupants in the room as they all listen to the mumbled words, a great fondness filling all of them as they take in the sight of the two boys at the bed.

“Louis?” The disbelief in Zayn’s voice rings loudly and has everyone looking from him to Louis and back again in a matter of seconds.

“What? What’s the matter?” Jay questions, wiping sleep roughly from her eyes, she can clearly hear the concern in Zayn’s voice and it has her whole attention.

“I could have sworn that his hand just moved.” Zayn’s eyes are fixed on the hand that lays within Harry’s own and sure enough, just as everyone else is watching; also transfixed, the fingers move slightly.

Harry feels the movement and it has his head jerking up suddenly; he’s wide awake now.

“Lou? Louis, baby, can you hear me? It’s Harry, I’m here, and you’re alright now.” Harry murmurs while nodding at the call button and signalling for Jay to press it.

Nurses fill the room and ask them all to step back from the bed, Harry’s reluctant but Zayn promises him that the nurses are just trying to help Louis so it’s the best thing for him to do. They all can do no more than watch as the team touch buttons on the various monitors that surround Louis and check the tube in his mouth.

“There’s an increased level of brain activity which suggests to us that he is in fact waking up.” The nurse addresses the group as the rest of the medical personnel file out of the room. “We’ve got the nasal cannula ready but we can’t remove the intubation tube until he wakes up and we know he can breathe without it.” 

Harry’s voice interrupts the nurse, “What? You mean he’s got that tube in his throat because he can’t bloody breathe by himself?”

“Try not to worry, it’s more of a precaution; because he’s unconscious we wanted to simply guarantee that there would be no problems and ensure that there are no blockages in his airway.” The nurse smiles at Harry, “The signs indicate that your friend will wake up soon.”

With that she leaves once more and everyone is watching Louis again.

“He’s going to be so scared when he wakes up and can’t see. What are we going to tell him?” Jay asks the others. 

“That we’re here and he’s not alone, that he’s safe and there’s ever reason that his vision will be fine; his eyes just need treatment for a little while.” Dan is lightening fast to respond; he’s been thinking about how to deal with that eventuality when it occurs and he is well aware that given what they’re both feeling Jay and Harry will not be thinking clearly. 

“Rnnnnn” 

The mumbled groan from the bed has everyone on their feet and staring at Louis; his name is whispered by various people and the call button is pressed once more.

Louis starts to cough, body shuddering breathes that sound so painful to Liam’s ears.

“Mr Tomlinson, you’re at Newlands Hospital, you’re safe now. Please try to calm down and we’ll work on removing the tube in your throat. Squeeze my hand if you understand.” The nurse asks and takes Louis’ small hand within her own.

Everyone watches with baited breath for Louis’ hand to move and it feels like an achingly long time to Harry until it does.

“Thank God.” Stan murmurs from his position at the foot of Louis’ bed.

“Okay, good Louis, you’re doing well. Now, I’m going to count to three and then I want you to cough and the tube will come out.” The nurse counts and Harry has to force himself to watch the torture Louis goes through as it is removed. The nurse then feeds him ice chips once the tube is out and Harry can only stare as Louis’ throat swallows and the older boy makes pained noises.

\----------------------- 

Louis does not return to consciousness quickly; instead he can feel it creeping up on him and prickling in slowly. He very slowly becomes aware of his body, his arms and legs feel blissfully free and he relishes the feeling for a moment before allowing himself to succumb to the panic that he feels growing within him.

He feels the presence of others around him but it isn’t the same feeling as the one he remembers when his arms and legs were bound; he knows that something is different. Yet, as he goes to open his eyes, whilst summoning the strength to complete the action he realises with fear that he can’t. His eyes won’t open, there’s a pressure on them and it makes his head feel heavy, he can’t understand why it’s still there. With his heart sinking right to the pit of his stomach he realises that he isn’t actually free; instead he’s still trapped in the hell hole. Of course he can’t feel his legs and arms, maybe they are behind his back and maybe he is still on that godforsaken bed, because if he was free, if he had been found like he vaguely believes he is, then they would have surely uncovered his eyes.   
“Louis, if you can hear me, you’re safe now, you’re in hospital.” He hears the sound of a woman’s voice nearby but it feels distant in the buzzing of his mind.

“Rnnnnn” Louis knows that he makes a noise but he doesn’t put any thought to it, he doesn’t feel like he could actually form any decipherable sounds anyway. 

“Mr Tomlinson, you have some people here with you.” He hears the woman’s voice again but it’s unfamiliar to him still and he doesn’t pay it much attention. He just wants to go back to sleep, it was so peaceful there, there was no pain or fear; just a blank abyss which seemed perfectly happy to leave him undisturbed. 

Just as he feels the lull of sleep, already succumbing to the peace that comes with it, he hears the voice of home, “Lou, it’s Harry, I’m here love.” And Louis wants to wake up again, he wants to believe that Harry is there, he wants to see if Harry is there but he can’t see and he’s falling asleep, and he’s getting so afraid that when, if, he wakes up again it will have just been a dream, a hallucination. He cries out, feels the whimper slip passed his lips but then it’s all faded away and he’s no longer conscious.

Harry sobs as he hears the pitiful noise that Louis makes and he watches with tears in his eyes as his body jerks with shakes. 

“Lou, we’ll be here when you wake up, I’m not leaving you sweetheart.” Harry lowers his lips and softly speaks right into Louis’ ear, hoping that the older boy can hear it no matter where his mind has taken him. He leaves a lingering kiss on the warm skin and pulls away slightly. 

“Why’s he asleep again so soon? Is he okay?” Niall’s staring at his oldest band mate; he’s terrified by the thought of the boy being trapped unable to see.

“He needs all of the rest he can get, his body is severely malnourished and it’s clear that he’s suffering from some exhaustion. He’ll come round again soon and he may be able to stay awake for longer. Just give him time.” With that the nurse gives the monitors and tubes one final lingering check before heading on her way and leaving the room. 

\----------------------- 

Louis dreams of bottle green eyes and soft curly hair, he dreams of the slow voice that emanates from the boy he loves but he also dreams of making that same slow speaking boy laugh and giggle so fast that he has to wrap his large hand around his waist as if to stave off the bellyache. Louis dreams of curls and green and it makes his heart feel full; it’s an incredible feeling that surrounds him and he savours every moment. He wants to find the boy, his Harry, but he can’t. He’s stuck somewhere, it’s all dark and the curls and the green and the laughter, it’s all fading now, it’s being replaced by a wall that closes in on him. The wall has him in fear, it’s too close and too much, it won’t leave him alone, always getting closer and closer until it’s upon him.

\-----------------------   
“Louis, darling, wake up, you’re okay. You’re in hospital, it’s me sweety, it’s your mum. I’m here love. You’re safe. Come on, that’s it, calm down hun.” Jay makes sure that her voice is loud enough to break through any dreams or nightmares that Louis is having. She soothingly rubs her hand through his hair, mindful of the bandage that winds around his head and she makes the most bizarre sound, somewhere between a gasp sob and wheeze when, all of a sudden she hears the voice she’s missed for too long.

“Mum?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you :-) Hope this was okay. I want to make the story realistic but I don't know much about medicalness (which I'm guessing you can tell as it's fairly obvious.) I also hope I'm not dragging everything out or writing too much detail. I just know that my favourite stories are those where no characters are left out. I know that the pairing is Harry/Louis but I'm not the type of writer to just focus on those two and ignore other members of the band.
> 
> I massively love all of you who have read this and commented and bookmarked and kudosed. THANK YOU.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm not sure about this chapter. I know where I want to take this story but I'm just struggling at the minute. I have something going on with my health right now and I'm going to be going away for a bit but I'll try to update again before I leave. Hope this chapter is okay and thanks as always for reading, commenting, bookmarking and kudosing (verb?) :) All of that makes me SQUEE (which is a happy dance and a wiggle and that's good for my health) So thank you :-)

“H, he’ll be alright in the end, he’ll get there. He’s got you by his side and a room full of people who will do anything for him. You just have to stay strong with him but love, you don’t have to be strong when you’re with me; it’s alright to cry and get angry. And it’s okay to let it show. Come on, come with me and we’ll go check on Lou and then you can get a good sleep back at the hotel. Come on.” Anne takes one last lingering glance at her phone before shoving it back in her pocket and trying to ignore the words she’s just read in the text from Jay. Then she tugs on Harry’s hand and so that he’s forced to clamber to his feet from where he’s been slumped on a cafeteria chair. Together the pair makes their way back to Louis’ private room and as they get closer they hear subdued voices.

“There’s no certainty in regards to how badly his eyes have been damaged from the infection until he’s conscious enough to complete some eye tests.” The Doctor is informing Louis’ family and friends who are all gathered in the waiting area. Something strong tugs on Harry’s heart at the sight. 

“Why…Why aren’t you all in there? What’s happened? Oh God, I shouldn’t have left him, why aren’t you in there…” 

“Shh, Harry, it’s okay, love, they’re just out here to talk to the Doctor. I’m sure Louis doesn’t need to hear all of this right now. It’s better for him to have some peace and quiet yeah? Don’t fret love.” Anne tugs Harry into her side and although he’s a head of hair taller than her now he still feels like the little boy he was growing up. Harry’s head is tucked into Anne’s neck now and she can feel the wetness of a few tears. It makes her hug him closer to her and whisper more soothing words into his ear. When she looks up again, realising that people have stopped talking and their attention is focussed on the mother and son, her eyes connect with Jay’s. The two mums have a silent conversation and Anne knows that it’s best to try and get Harry away from the hospital for a while. 

“Come on love, I’m sure Louis needs his sleep, have a little moment and then we’ll be off, I promise you can come back and see him later.” Anne’s voice is motherly and soft and it makes Harry whimper and hug closer. 

“Louis’ fast asleep right now,” Liam speaks calmly but if Harry had been paying attention he would have heard the forced underlying note that always signals when Liam is telling an untruth. “We’ll stay here mate and if he wakes up before you get back we’ll call you straight away, okay?” 

“I don’t want to leave him.” Harry mumbles into his mother’s neck. 

“But love, he’ll be none the wiser, Lou’s out for the count right now and as much as I appreciate you being here, all of you,” Jay’s speaking now, risen from her seat and moved closer to Harry and Anne, her eyes flitter across everyone when she addresses them and her heart warms when she receives weak small smiles in return. “I’ll appreciate you more though when you’re fully rested and once you’ve had yourself a good sleep and meal Harry. Louis loves you and he’ll be expecting you to be taking care of yourself.” 

“But I don’t want to leave him.” Harry’s voice is quieter still now.

“He needs you to be strong for him love when he wakes up. He needs us all to be strong for him. Go, give him a kiss goodbye and tell him you’ll be back, then go and take care of yourself for a change. Louis would never forgive me if I let you get run down.” Jay’s hand is running slowly through Harry’s hair and Anne lets go of her son for Jay to tug him into her own arms. The pair shares a moment, each thinking of the boy behind the door and blind covered window. 

“You promise you’ll let me know if he wakes up?” Harry asks, looking up finally to meet Liam’s concerned gaze. 

“You’ve got my word mate.” Liam hugs Harry to him as well, tells him to take care and that they’ll look out for Louis.

With that Anne waits patiently as Harry enters Louis’ room, she can vaguely hear the murmur of words but forces herself to focus her attention on the people in the room with her. Jay has retreated to her seat beside Dan and Liam is still stood by her side. Every one else is in various sitting and lying positions around the chairs and couches. Zayn is asleep which does not come as a surprise to Anne but her face grows into a smile when she realises the two bodies snuggled either side of the boy are those of Niall and Stan. Just as she’s about to make a comment regarding the cuteness of the three young men the door to Louis’ room opens once again and Anne faces her son. 

Harry has a few tears leaking from his eyes and he knows he’s sniffling like crazy but he’s doing his best to not burst into full on sobs once again. He knows that crying will get them no where; it won’t make Louis miraculously recover. All he knows is that he can’t help it; he’s consumed with a heart aching sadness that runs so deeply through him. He can’t bring himself to stay near the hospital anymore and he darts away, knowing that his mum will follow; he needs to get some air, get away from the overpowering stench of medicines and the unbearable noise of beeping machines and frantic nurses. 

“Come on love, Robin’s got the car out front and we’ll go get you fed and watered.” Anne wraps her arm around her thin son’s waist and holds him close until she can push the boy gently into the awaiting car. 

Harry closes his eyes, the tears continue to leak and he lets out a whimper as he realises that he can’t stop them from falling. His eyes hurt and his nose is rubbed sore from the amount of times he’s scuffed it with his hand; but the worst pain? That’s his heart. He can’t be sure if it’s his heart or something in his heart but whatever it is, whatever is hurting, it’s the worst aching pain he’s ever felt. He couldn’t even describe it if you paid him, he’s not sure if it’s a dull ache or a sharp stab but all he knows is that it hurts. 

“What happened mum?” His words are mixed together, sobs interrupting the flow of syllables and he knows his mum didn’t understand what he said but simply knew what he was asking because of how well she knows him. 

“Love, he just woke up and was a bit overwhelmed by everything, that’s all, he’s sleeping again now and when he’s got some more rest he’ll wake up again and it’ll be clearer for him. Try not to worry,” Anne almost laughs at herself and is incredulous of her own words, she isn’t even sure why they’re tumbling from her mouth; she doesn’t believe them so Harry is hardly going to. “Food and rest and then you’ll be back at his side. Dry your eyes now love, gently, let’s stop these tears.” She hands him a tissue and watches as he rubs furiously before tutting softly and taking the tissue from his shaking hands. She does it herself, carefully wiping away the tears as if they were precious drew drops laying on stems of the greenest grass, and once she’s done she presses a kiss to his temple.

Harry wants to cry again now; he’s being handled so carefully, as if he’s fragile and the thought of that, the thought of the reality being that maybe he is fragile, but the boy that he loves is even more so, well the thought of that reality tears him apart. So he sniffs some more, gulping back the sobs that are desperate to jump from his throat. 

The car ride passes and Harry has no idea how far they’ve travelled, he doesn’t even notice when he’s being unclipped from his seatbelt and tugged from the car. He isn’t aware of the few journalists that are milling around outside the hotel and he certainly doesn’t pay attention to the questions they ask and the words they yell. Everything is just passing him by in a haze. A little part of his brain wonders if Louis has more than his heart; it seems that he isn’t fully aware if he isn’t with Louis. Harry’s mind drifts and he finds himself comparing his being with Louis to his being without Louis. They’re not one and the same. With Louis he feels so full of life, so ready to face anything; all because he knows he has the person he loves by his side. He isn’t sure if he believes in soul mates, or even love at first sight, but he does believe in true love. True love being that sometimes a pair of people, out there in the big world, find each other and click; that’s all there is to it… Just two people in the world who find some piece of themselves in someone else and naturally fall in love and Harry knows, it’s innate, he is positively sure that Louis is the one who completes him. 

Anne watches Harry as she pushes his exhausted body through the maze of hotel corridors, her eyes zoned in on his own and following their movements as they flitter over his tattoos. She has long since known how her son feels about the older boy, she remembers the conversation in which Harry first told her about Louis, about how he had eyes that shone like water that’s glittering under the sun’s rays, and how just his smile alone can light up a whole room. She has long considered Louis a son of her own and she knows that Jay reciprocates with Harry. The two mothers are over the moon that their children have found each other and it hurt Anne when she found out that Louis was missing. Walking her son forwards she gently tilts his body so that it’s sat up on the bed in his hotel suite. 

“Here’s the room service menu, order anything you want and then get a shower. Once you’ve eaten you’ll sleep and then we can head back over to Louis.” Anne leaves no room for argument and leaves her son to start the shower running as she knows that he needs to be forced into action. 

Anne keeps herself occupied, being busy means that her mind doesn’t have to think about everything that’s happened or the small lies that she’s been telling her son all day, she never wanted to lie to him but at this point it’s a damn sight better than telling the truth…

\----------------------- 

Stan’s alone with Louis now, just him sitting in an uncomfortable chair next to his best friend’s bedside, there’s the beeping of the machine and the low hum or conversation that seeps through the crack in the door. He isn’t sure how long he’s been with Louis for, time is irrelevant these days, every second mingles into another and another and there’s nothing to separate them. It’s as if there is only two important times for his mind to recall nowadays; the time before Louis went missing and the time since Louis was found. Each one is blurred and seemingly never ending and Stan can’t even bring himself to contemplate the third time frame that his mind would just rather forget altogether; the time when Louis was missing. Those few days were a lifetime and Stan had felt at the time that no matter what condition Louis was returned in the most important thing was that he returned home. 

Now though, as he sits and watches his best friend lie in a bed hooked up to various machines, he wonders whether or not he wishes he could take that back. And then, as soon as the thought comes, he mentally kicks himself and a little part of him loathes his brain for thinking that way. 

It’s just, it’s not fair, and that’s what it boils down to: fairness. And the acknowledgement of that makes Stan scoff audibly in the empty room. 

Fair. 

What does that mean? 

Nothing about the situation is fair, Louis being depressed is not fair, and Louis being taken is not fair and Louis… Louis... 

Stan sighs. 

He can’t bring himself to think of what faces Louis now, if what the Doctors told them is true then he’s not sure how his friend will cope. He’s not sure how he’d cope if it was him but then he knows that he and all the others that care about Louis would do anything for the boy. He just isn’t sure that it’s enough. 

“Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.” The curses explode from his mouth with an untamed fury and Stan is on his feet without thought, they pace him around and around the small room, he’s cursing all the way, muttering expletives into the air. 

Then he’s by Louis’ side once more and tumbling into the chair; body like a rag doll. “Mate, if you can hear me,” He begins, and then stops as suddenly as he started. His eyes roam over Louis blanket covered body and drink in the sight of the unusually pale body. “Lou, it’s Stan mate, I don’t know if you can hear me, fuck.” He laughs a little, there’s absolutely nothing funny about any of it but the thought of talking to his best friend who has been forced into yet another drug filled sleep, seems to be making him a little delirious. 

There’s a shuffle of feet outside the door followed by a knock to which Stan grunts; it’s neither an invitation nor a refusal, just a small noise that works its way out from the back of his throat. 

“How’s he doing?” It’s Liam and he quietly closes the door behind him, as if he’s afraid to wake a sleeping person, and the acknowledgement of that has Stan snorting again.

Liam looks at him befuddled and it has Stan laughing now, full on guffaws making their way out of his mouth. 

“Sorry mate, don’t know why,” He splutters between the chuckles, “I think it’s either laugh or cry.” He wipes the tears from his eyes and he has no idea whether they’re from laughter or actual tears.

“Stan, he’s going to get better, he’s Louis Tomlinson, the most determined person I think I’ve ever met. I couldn’t get used to him at first because of his attitude; I’d never met anyone like him. He was so quiet and almost shy but had this attitude about him that I took as cocky, until I got to know him,” Liam sends a soft smile to the boy on the bed and then looks back at Stan. “He’s one of the strongest willed people that I’ve ever met and he’ll get better.”

“Yeah, but, like I know he’s probably going to get better,” Stan wipes the remnants of tears away from his eyes; the laughter has stopped now. “But, his eyes… He can’t exactly sort them out through willpower can he?” 

“No, I suppose he can’t, but I mean the Doctor said there’s a chance he’ll regain some vision, maybe all of it. It’s just a case of wait and see.”

“A shitty case of wait and fucking see.” 

Liam has nothing to add to that. They’d all been in the room when Louis had awoken earlier and started panicking about the pressure resting upon his eyes. Liam had watched from the side of the room, as had everyone else, while the Doctor had peeled back the bandages and tried to calm the frightened male. Liam had listened as the Doctor had asked Louis several questions; none of which got comprehensible answers. Louis had become increasingly agitated and the Doctor had requested that everyone leave the room. Anne had taken a sobbing but reluctant Harry away and Jay had text her to inform her of what the Doctor told them once he had finally emerged from Louis’ room. 

\----------------------- 

“90 percent chance of him having impaired or no vision at all for the rest of his life.” Jay reads the sent message on her phone over and over until her vision is blurry. When the Doctor had told her that her heart had sunk once more; they’ve found him and he shouldn’t be going through any of this. She’d typed the message, deleting every typing error made by her trembling hands, as she repeated the Doctors words in parrot fashion. It lay before her on her phone and the sight of it makes her feel sick, every time her eyes read the words it sends a sharp pain to her abdomen, and she feels physically sick.

“Stop torturing yourself babe,” Dan forcibly takes the phone from her hand and puts it into his own pocket; hidden from her view. “That means there’s a 10 percent chance of full recovery…”

“10 percent is nothing!” Jay spits, the venom not directed at Dan but at the situation Louis is in.

The interruption doesn’t deter Dan, in fact it spurs him on, and he kneels in front of Jay, so that they’re facing each other and he stares into her eyes with as much conviction as he can muster. “10 percent is a chance. A small one, maybe, but a chance nonetheless, and we need to do everything we can to make the most of that 10 percent. And that other 90 percent, well, it’s not certain that he’d be completely unable to see,” Dan has learnt that Jay does not react well to hearing the word “blind” in connection with Louis. “Let’s take the chance and roll with it.” 

The noise of someone clearing their throat has Jay’s attention now and she lifts her eyes from Dan’s to meet those of Louis’ Doctor. 

“While he’s out we’ve decided to work on getting those cuffs removed, there is a risk involved, so we need your consent, this is different to the other paperwork you signed as that was for health care. Although this is being done with the benefit of his health it is a situation where we are going to inflict more possible harm on him, I know it seems bizarre to say as the alternative is leaving him with metal bracelets and anklets for the rest of his life…” The Doctor speaks and the words wash over Jay. 

“I’m not sure my son could possibly suffer anymore. So just be careful, please?” It’s almost begging but Jay couldn’t care less. She wants her son to be completely free of his imprisonment and she couldn’t imagine leaving him to a future of cuffs on his limbs; serving as a constant reminder of what he’s been through.

“Very well, we’ll be using something called a dremmel, which is a small blade and given that we’ll be cutting through metal there will be a lot of heat and sparks. We’re going to wrap his hands as much as we can under the cuffs with wet bandages and put as much foam padding as we can between them and the metal.” The Doctor explains, he knows that he’s surgically trained to remove organs and repair wounds but he’s not had a great deal of experience of cutting metal handcuffs that have been welded together on people’s bodies. 

“Just, please, don’t hurt my boy anymore.” Jay signs the form and then the Doctor’s away once more, heading in to Louis’ room with his assembled team once more. 

\----------------------- 

Harry’s awake, his eyes unseeing as they blink at the ceiling, his tummy is fuller than it’s been in days and his hair is so clean the curls are flopping onto his forehead.

There’s a knock at his door but before he can drag himself upright to go and answer it, his mother beats him to it, she’s been perched in a chair watching his television quietly for hours. 

“Hey” Zayn walks through the door, he too looks fresher than he did when they were at the hospital earlier and Harry spares a moment to think about how many rooms they’ve had to book out of the hotel this time. 

“Hey” Harry repeats, not applying his brain to come up with any other form of greeting. 

“They got the cuffs off him, no harm done to his wrists or ankles,” Zayn smiles and moves to lie beside Harry where he’s propped up on his bed.

“That’s something I guess.” Harry mumbles as he shuffles a little lower down on the bed. 

Zayn wraps his arm around Harry and now they’re both on their backs, heads on the pillows and eyes fixed on the white ceiling. 

“He’s not woken up yet mate, there’s still time for you to get some sleep, thought I’d come and keep you company yeah? Li, Ni and Stan are still with Lou. Dan’s managed to get Jay back here for a bit too. I said we’d head back with them in a few hours.” Zayn’s voice is not much louder than a whisper but it doesn’t need to be; Anne has turned the television off and headed into her own room, happy now in the knowledge that her son isn’t alone.

“What if I can’t sleep?” Harry’s still looking at the ceiling, “I close my eyes and all I see is him, I open my eyes and all I see is him, I can’t stop it Zayn and I want to but then I get so cross with myself because why would I want to stop thinking about Louis. It’s just…” 

“Hey hey hey, it’s okay, Harry, that’s alright. There’s no right or wrong here,” Zayn’s no longer looking at the ceiling; instead he’s looking at the boy who’s still looking at the ceiling. “Louis wouldn’t mind about you not wanting to think of him for once, God knows that boy gets enough attention.” Zayn smirks slightly when he thinks about how indignant Louis always is when he’s referred to as an attention seeker. 

“But what if I don’t think about him and something happens? That would be my fault Zayn and it’s already my fault. I should have noticed…”

Harry’s interrupted once more by Zayn nudging their hips together, side by side their bodies knock gently and the movement jars Harry from his depressing verbalisation of thoughts. 

“Haz, nothing is going to happen to Lou just because you got some sleep, things happen and I’m pretty sure that Louis would be the first one to tell you that if he could, I mean I’m sure you can imagine it now, him all wide eyed and giggling like a loon then jabbering like a monkey about it being it is what it is. He fucking loves that phrase.” Zayn laughs shortly at the picture he’s built in his head, “It is what it is Harry. And it’ll be the same regardless of whether you’re knackered or bright eyed and bushy tailed.” 

“But…”

“Nope” Zayn pops the ‘p’ and just lets the small sound of their breathing fill the room. “Sleep now Harry.”

And Harry feels as though he has very little choice but to close his eyes and hope that a dreamless sleep will come to him. 

\----------------------- 

Louis feels himself waking up, he hears the hushed murmur of voices surrounding him and he can tell from the position of his body that he’s lying down. The bed feels a lot comfier than he remembers and it soothes him; to think that perhaps the couple have taken a little more care for him, tried to make him more comfortable. Then he realises that he can hear beeping, it’s not too loud but it’s noisy enough to grab his attention. He tries to think, to clear the fast swirling thoughts in his head, desperately trying to remember if there was any machinery in the room he was in. He can make no sense of the fleeting thoughts and it’s when he feels someone’s hand touch his own that he jumps. His whole body shivers and he hears the voices stop. 

He doesn’t dare make any noise, he doesn’t want the man, or God forbid, the woman, to know that he’s awake. So he stays still, unmoving, trying his best to not even let his chest rise and fall with air. 

That’s when the cacophony of noise begins. Alarms are blaring and filling his ears with the shrill sirens. The voices have started again, and there are more hands touching him, running their way down his arms and along his face, making the hairs rise on his neck and the fear is palpitating now, thumping loudly through his body. He needs to breathe but he daren’t show them that he’s awake. He can see the white as it peels into the corners of his vision, encroaching upon the black abyss, filling it with speckled dots, he is holding his breath and at the back of his mind he knows that if he were competing, he’d be the winner. Surely no one has held their breath for this long before. 

And then he’s coughing. Choked sobs filling his lungs, he feels the panting in his throat, dry and sore, the pain fills him and he whimpers.

“You’re safe Louis, please calm down, you’re safe, you’re in hospital and you’re safe.” There’s one voice, louder than the rest and Louis can’t hear all that it’s saying but he can make out a few words, a few words like “Safe” and “Hospital” between his sobs and chokes. 

He’s pretty sure that they’re good words, but he doesn’t understand why he still can’t see, why, if he is indeed safe, why haven’t they given him his eyes back?

“Ho’p’al?” The effort that it takes to create the spoken word registers in Louis as alarming but he pays no attention to that now. He’ll contemplate his ability of speech later and his frenzied mind is happy enough to leave the thought alone for now. 

“Yes. Safe and in hospital, your family and friends are here Louis, I’m your Doctor. My name is Lance Dawson, I’m your Doctor, you’re safe now Louis.” He feels a warm hand briefly touch his hand now, all of the other hands are gone, he has no idea where but he prefers this; he can deal with one hand, although, the thought of the other hand being somewhere unknown to him has him filling with something akin to fear. 

“Two hands” He murmurs, or tries to, the words get a little stuck in his throat. It feels so dry. 

Doctor Dawson watches his patient; he managed to get everyone to move away from the bed as he could see the boy struggling with the battle for consciousness. He had arrived in the room to the alarm blaring and Louis shuddering on the bed, face turning redder and redder in a conscious effort to stop breathing. He hears the words scuffed out of the boy’s throat and he’s sure that he’s heard them correctly but he doesn’t quite understand what they mean. Two hands? He’s about to question it when one of his nurses, Debbie he thinks her name is, takes his hand (the one that’s not resting on Louis’) and places it next to his other. 

It clicks then and he sends a very grateful smile to his Nurse for her brilliant quick thinking. “Two hands” he repeats softly and he’s relieved to see that Louis stops panicking then. 

“Louis, your throat must be very sore so we can give you some water, but to do that I’m going to have to move my hand, alright?” Doctor Dawson is quick on the uptake and he knows that Louis needs to be told exactly where he’s going to be touched and when to expect it. 

Louis thinks that he’s nodding but he isn’t sure, it’s just the desperation for a drink, for actual liquid to go down his throat and soothe the pain, has him bobbing and shaking his head and he really hopes that the Doctor will take it as a nod. 

He does. And the liquid gold is running down his throat and he gulps greedily, and he cries with indignation when he feels the straw being removed.

“Just for a moment, try to get your breath back; I don’t want you to cough.” 

And the straw is back, and he’s sipping this time, somewhere in his brain he knows that he should take it slowly. In all of his life he has never felt anything better than the cool water that’s trickling its way down his throat and he smiles, he can feel it weakly tugging on his lips and filling his face with happiness. 

“Th’n’ou” He tries to convey his gratitude and although the water has made his throat better he still can’t properly form words. He pays no attention to that though as he can feel the lull of sleep once more and he takes it; not even having to close his eyes to follow the darkness.   
\----------------------- 

Zayn receives the call from Liam to say that Louis had woken up. He knows that he should tell Harry, he knows that they promised Harry that they’d tell him as soon as Louis awoke, but, the thing is that Louis’ asleep again now. Harry’s finally asleep too and Zayn makes a judgement call. He thinks it’s the right one but he knows that Harry would most likely adamantly disagree. He does as he thinks best though and tells Liam to keep them apprised of any changes before disconnecting the call and heading back out of the bathroom and towards the bed upon which Harry is sleeping. 

“What’s happened?” Harry is still half asleep but he obviously feels Zayn shifting the bed covers slightly as he rejoins him.

“Nothing, just went to the loo, sleep Harry.” Zayn murmurs and lies back down to stare unseeing at the ceiling.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the kinda predictable end to this chapter but I hope the whole thing's okay. I've been trying to get this chapter written for a while and I'm only just finally slightly happy with it. 
> 
> Thank you for the kudos, comments and bookmarks as always, and sorry for not replying to them straight away but I really do appreciate every single one. 
> 
> Also, someone pointed out that I've kinda jumped gungho into this fic and I hadn't made it clear (I struggle with the concept of the tagging malarky) that Harry and Louis are together, a couple, in a relationshippppp. This is the only way that I can really word what their situation is, please of course, ask me anything that you don't understand and I'll try to make things clearer. Sorry for any confusion. Hope you enjoy this chapter :) More sooooon! 
> 
> Explanation: They're dating but to me, in real life, even if they are dating (which I hope and kinda believe they are) I think that the continuous rumours about 'Larry Stylinson' would bug the hell out of them and put more pressure on them both in terms of their friendship and their relationship. Like to me I don't think it could be easy to be secretly dating a band member and then have all of these rumours floating around, showing them how many people would be supportive/unsupportive if it were true, and then having to deny it all anyway because of Management...

Louis’ been awake for a while now, his eyes are still closed and he can hear soft voices surrounding him, but he isn’t sure that he wants to let them all know that he’s awake. He’s realised by now, that he is in fact “safe” or at least a hell of a lot safer than he had been before. But, the terrifying thing is, he has no idea how long it’s been or where he was or where he is now. Sure, he’s been told that he’s in a hospital but that means nothing to him.

 

The fear consumes him and he can’t help but sob, it’s a quiet and totally pathetic sound to his own ears but he can do nothing else; he can’t cry because his eyes aren’t working. It doesn’t even feel like his eyes are there; there’s nothing but a little pressure on the area where they should be.

 

“Louis, love, please don’t be upset, you’re alright. We’re here for you sweetheart and you’re getting better.”

 

Louis hears the melodic voice of his mother; the one person he has always been able to count on. She’s been there for him every single day of his life and he’s finally just realising how incredibly foolish he was to try and avoid speaking to her over the past few months. He’s been making himself feel worse, not better, but he had simply believed that if he didn’t speak to her, or the girls, he’d stop missing home so much.

 

He can’t help but sob a little more at that; it’s dawning on him now that this is his own entire fault. He was the one who was suffering and maybe feeling homesick wasn’t his fault but he’s handled it all so incredibly badly.

 

He tried to run away and in doing so he’s probably scared so many people who have had to give up their time and effort to look for him and he’s got himself into a right mess; lying here in a hospital bed unable to remember time and in capable of sight.

 

Jay watches as Louis breathes in and out heavily with the exertion of a few sobs and she slides forward on her seat and reaches for his hand; squeezing her eyes shut and swallowing back her own sob as Louis flinches at the unexpected movement.

 

“Tommo, I’m here as well,” Niall’s Irish accent cuts into the air and he smiles slightly when he sees Louis’ head tilt a little, as if seeking out Niall’s position in the room. “I’m here mate, not so much one for hand holding as you well know but I’m going to make an exception today.”

 

Louis feels Niall’s hand slip into his own and now both of his hands are being cradled, held like prized jewels in two others, and it overwhelms him. More sobs slip their way passed his lips; they cut painfully on his throat that’s still a little dry despite the ice chips he’s been fed regularly.

 

“S’rry,” The mumbled apology pushes passed his lips and he feels the puff of air hit his head when someone moves their face near his.

 

“Tommo, you don’t have any reason to be sorry, just concentrate on getting better okay?” It’s Niall. His words are spoken softly directly into Louis’ ear giving him no choice but to listen and take them in.

 

“’ow l’ng?” Louis splutters a little, he can’t wipe the small specks of saliva away though because his hands are still being held, but he feels someone do it for him and the touch is so gentle and caring that he nuzzles his head into it.

 

“Just a couple of days mate,” Niall replies, he doesn’t want Louis to worry about anything and he feels that being vague is the best way for them right now.

 

Louis jumps, hands clasping tighter around his mum’s and Niall’s when he hears a door open and footsteps approach.

 

Stan’s desperate to see Louis, to have an actual conversation with his best friend but he wanted to call Harry and let him know of the developments. Jay had arrived back at the hospital a few hours earlier when Louis had still been asleep. She hadn’t woken Harry to tell him that she was coming back; she’d spoken with Zayn who had informed her that the exhausted 19 year old was sleeping and she didn’t have the heart to wake him.

 

Stan’s just returning from calling Harry, the younger boy had been overjoyed to hear that Louis had woken up and managed to stay conscious for longer than ten minutes. And now, as he enters the hospital room where his best friend is staying, he can’t help but grin, a huge smile of glee that spreads from cheek to cheek.

 

“Hey there, best friend,” He declares his arrival exuberantly and takes delight from the way that Louis’ own face lights up a little. “It’s good to see you mate.”

 

“Stan,” Louis breathes out and he knows there’s a fond smile sitting on his face.

 

“The one and only!” Stan declares triumphantly before pretty much leaping across the room and squeezing his body beside Niall’s so that he’s stood next to Louis’ shoulders.

 

“Harry’s on his way too Lou, he’ll be here soon, with Zayn and Liam. Everyone’s been desperate to see you.”

 

Louis squeezes both hands a little; trying to convey his happiness at the fact that he’s lucky enough to have so many people who care about him in life. But, the happiness seems to not be shared by his mouth as the words that fall from his lips are a mumbled and unhappy, “I wann’ see; wha’ ‘s wrong wi’ my eyes?”

 

The three stood around Louis’ bedside share a look, each one remembering the Doctor’s strict orders about not revealing the true extent of his eye problems to Louis for fear of it being a setback to his recovery.

 

They’re saved from answering his question when they hear footsteps racing towards the private room.

 

\-----------------------

 

Harry’s pulled on the most mismatched change of clothes ever; as soon as Zayn and Liam had woken him up to the frantic call of Stan who informed him of Louis’ return to consciousness. He’s been beside himself with excitement, desperate to get himself to his boyfriend’s side. But he’d been forced by Paul and the boys to get a shower, change of clothes and food. He’s been the most anxious and frantic person throughout the whole car ride from the hotel to the hospital; vehemently ignoring every single fan and journalist who wants to know how he’s feeling since Louis was found.

 

So it’s no wonder that he’s racing through the hospital now, his big feet clomping heavily on the solid floor, barging his way through doors and sprinting down corridors.

 

He’s panting when he arrives into the private waiting area but he just swallows back the heavy pants and slows when he reaches the door to Louis’ room. He can hear the footsteps of Liam and Zayn approaching and he doesn’t feel the slightest bit guilty that he left them behind when he jumped out of the stopping car that brought them here.

 

“Harry, mate?” Zayn’s calling to him as he hurries to catch up, “Just, when you go in there, like make sure he knows who you are before you touch him yeah?”

 

“Yeah, I know,” He’s subdued again, a lot of the elation leaving him when he’s reminded that Louis can’t see.

 

“Hey, don’t be like that, he’s awake and he’s okay, he’s getting better Harry, just Zayn was wanting to make sure you didn’t like jump on him and start sucking his face.” Liam smirks knowingly when Harry unconsciously licks his lip.

 

“Yeah, that’s all, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Zayn pats Harry on the shoulder and nudges the taller boy forward, “Go see your Boobear.”

 

His Boobear. That one simple phrase puts a megawatt smile on Harry’s face and he’s pushing his way through the door to see _his Boobear._

 

“Who’s’it?” Louis mumbles, trying to sit up but only becoming frustrated when his body won’t cooperate and his hands are still being held so he can’t use them for leverage.

 

“Lou,” Harry breathes out, his eyes fallen on the form of his boyfriend, who’s awake and breathing and _safe_.

 

“Haz?” There’s a smile tugging on Louis’ lips and he gives up in his efforts to get himself into a sitting position; all the air has just rushed out of him anyway.

 

“Yeah, love, it’s me, I’m here and I’m so glad your okay,” Harry’s by Louis’ side in four giant steps, Niall and Stan having shuffled themselves out of the way. “I’ve missed you baby,” Harry’s got tears dripping down his face and his cheeks are wet but it doesn’t matter, none of it matters, only the boy that’s on the bed matters.

 

Louis feels a few drops of wet liquid fall on to the skin of his arm and he snuffles his head closer to where he detects Harry to be.

 

“You cryin’ Haz? Don’t, I, I’m okay now,” It hurts Louis to think of what he’s put everyone through and there’s a deep sense of sadness tugging down at his heart, he regrets the way he’s dealt with everything and he has such a guilty conscience right now because he’s caused so much pain and misery and he’s made his Harry cry.

 

“I’m just happy Lou,” Harry can’t wait any longer, he’s taken a firm hold of Louis’ loose hand and running his fingers along the back of hand, mindful of the bandages when he approaches the wrists. “So happy,” He’s presses kisses to Louis’ face, his lips lingering against the soft skin each time, and the tears are still dripping from his eyes but he’s got the boy he loves and he’s happy.

 

“Heyyyy,” Liam whines playfully, and interrupts the lover’s reunion, “We wanna say hello to Boobear too!”

 

“Yeah, don’t hog him Harry,” Zayn laughs and the pair drink in the small smile Louis offers them at the sound of their voices.

 

“Ev’ryone’s here huh?” Louis mumbles, his hands tensing a little in Harry’s, completely and uncharacteristically ignoring Liam’s use of his childhood nickname.

 

“Yeah, babe, we’re all glad you’re okay,” Harry can’t help himself and he lowers his lips to Louis’, there’s a tense moment for Harry in which he’s convinced by the lack of reaction that the elder isn’t going to kiss him back but then he does, and it’s not as if there’s a sudden display of explosive fireworks or the sound of a perfect choir of children singing a perfect harmony; it’s just perfect. A golden moment of peace and it settles through Harry and from the way that he feels Louis’ hand relaxes he knows the other boy has felt it too. It’s as if it’s meant to be and that thought is so comforting to Harry, it soothes him to think that no matter what they face, no matter what happens, they’ll always find their way back to each other.

 

It’s such a powerful and crushing thought that it has tears springing to his eyes once more and this time they sting, they hurt and he wants to sob, he wants to fall to his knees and thank who ever it is, whoever’s responsible for what happened, if there is a God, what ever force is at work, he wants to fucking _thank_ them. Despite everything that has happened he has his boy back, his best friend and the person he can’t wait to spend the rest of his life with and he knows that he ought to _hate_ whatever force is at work for taking Louis in the first place. But none of that seems to matter right now; all that matters is that every single person in the world that Harry loves is safe and sound and when more tears spring from his eyes he rucks the bottom of his t-shirt up and roughly scrubs them away.

 

“I, fuck, I,” Louis can’t seem to get the words to form properly how he wants them and instead he’s stammering and the frustration is overpowering and he’s gripping his hands tighter; ignoring the way the other hands try to pull away. He can hear a gasp from somewhere but he can’t bring himself to care enough.

 

“Shh, it’s alright Lou, it’s alright sweetheart,” Jay’s whispering, her mothering instincts going into overdrive when she sees that her son is becoming distressed.

 

“Nonono, I – I, fuck,” Louis’ pushing the hands away, trying to fling them off him, make them lose their grip so they won’t touch him anymore; anything to stop himself from feeling their concern.

 

“Hey, calm down, love, you’re safe here,” Jay’s whispering, her eyes darting over the panicking form of her firstborn child who is very close to suffering from a panic attack.

 

“Deep breaths babe, come on, you need to calm down,” Harry joins in with Jay and the pair are trying desperately to keep a hold of Louis’ hands, they’re being yanked to and fro as the boy tries in vain to shake them loose.

 

“No, no, off, geroff, please, nononono,” Louis’ head is shaking side to side, his hair rubbing off the pillow and sticking up in all directions.

 

Niall, Stan, Liam and Zayn are all huddled together, just behind Harry, watching in silence as Louis fights on the bed.

 

“Please,” Louis’ sobbing, pleading and begging with all of his might to get them to let go, “Please, please, I just can’t, I, please, let go, let me go.”

 

Maybe Harry’s selfish, maybe he’s just sick of them all hurting so badly and he doesn’t understand, he can’t reason in his head how letting go of Louis will help any of them in this situation, so he doesn’t, he just grips firmer, his long fingers pressing into Louis’ dainty hands and whispers, tears being swallowed back, “I’m not about to let go of you Lou, so stop it, please stop for me love.”

 

And maybe Louis stops for him, maybe those whispered tear filled words sink in and maybe the meaning of them, the depth and the love that fills them makes him realise that he’s asking the impossible of Harry, or maybe he’s just worn himself out. Either way, he stops fighting and lets his body sink into the bedding. The bedding which felt soothing and comforting when he first awoke feels scratchy and rough against him now and he hates it, he wants to rip the covers off himself, push away the offending hands and throw a lot of stuff around. He wants to kick chairs over, upturn tables, punch his hand through a window. He wants to fucking feel _something_ , something which isn’t overwhelming sadness or guilt or regret.

 

The beeping is slower now, it was frantic before, loud bursts of **beepbeepbeep** buzzing through his head, a repeat soundtrack filling his ears but it calms him now, he allows his mind to drift off, each slow beep takes him further away and he welcomes it, because the hands feel like they’re letting go of him finally.

 

And with the seemingly ever slowing beeps, Louis drifts off and lets go, uncaring of where the dark takes him now, and for those watching over him in his hospital room,  it’s all too soon before the beeps slow and come to a stop.

 

\-----------------------

 

The sound of sniffs and rustling tissues fills the air and Doctor Dawson arrives into the waiting room to a sea of concerned family and friends and he sighs, this is one of the hardest parts of his job, he clears his throat a little and instantly every face shoots up at him and every eye is focussed upon him.

 

“It’s just a small setback,” He’s trying to placate them and he knows that he shouldn’t; he’s a professional for Christ’s sake but there’s something about the boy, the famous boy, who’s struggling his way through life right now and it tugs at his heart. “He’s okay, he’s just unconscious again, wore himself out it seems,” He’s trying to keep the medical jargon to a minimum; it’d only serve as a catalyst for more stress and confusion. “We’re going to keep him sedated for the time being and I’ve got Debbie, that’s the nurse you met earlier, bathing his eyes. I’d ask you all to stay out here but I understand that you want to see for yourselves that Louis’ alright.”

 

“But, why? What caused this?” Dan asks the question that’s at the tip of all their tongues and he knows, by the way Jay’s shoulder trembles within his arm, that she’s desperate to know and yet full of fear at the possibility that her son could have something else wrong with him.

 

“Simply, I think he wore himself out and his body couldn’t take it, that’s what caused the heart murmur that you all heard. The machine does the long beep when either a patient’s heart stops or there’s a jump in beats like Louis had.

 

“Isn’t that bradycardia?” Liam asks, he’s sitting between Niall and Zayn who’s heads turn lightening fast and they’re staring at him; probably wondering how he knows the term.

 

“Yes, it is a form of that,” Doctor Dawson’s not exactly surprised but it does grab his attention when he hears the medical term fall from the boy’s lips.

 

“But, isn’t that serious? Have you done checks and stuff to make sure it won’t happen again?”

 

Before Liam can panic anymore Doctor Dawson moves across the room and rests a hand on his shoulder, “We’ve done an ECG, and his heart is back at normal rhythm, it was probably just a one off but the machines he’s hooked up to will let us know if anything else happens as soon as it does. He’s in safe hands, I know that’s rich of me to say, seen as though they’re my hands, but we know how to do our jobs and…”

 

Liam cuts him off, “No, God, that’s not what I meant, I wasn’t like, insulting you. I just wanted to make sure…”

 

Doctor Dawson chuckles as Liam’s flustered form, “I know what you meant Son, and I know that that boy in there,” He nods his head in Louis’ direction, “I know that he’s lucky to have each and every one of you. So go on, go back in there and see with your own eyes that he’s alive and well.”

 

He gives the shoulder clasped in his ageing hand one last small squeeze and then he’s turning around and walking away; unsurprised that nobody’s calling him back with questions. Instead all he hears are the shuffling of feet along the tiled floor and he knows that they’re all following his suggestion.

 

“Just going to clean your eyes now poppet, get them all gunk free and they’ll start to feel better and then maybe you can open them sometime soon, hey?” Debbie’s sitting, perched on the side of the bed, a tray full of small bowls of different coloured creams and lotions covering it, and there’s a stack of cotton wool pads and bandages.

 

Everyone shuffles in and takes up their places within the room, there are enough places for them all to sit and there’s a chair free next to Stan that Harry knows is for him. But his feet are just carrying his long legs to the side of Louis’ hospital bed, and he’s shaking his clean curls, pushing them out of the way so they don’t obscure his vision of Louis.

 

“Glad you’re okay Boo,” Harry’s pressing a kiss to Louis’ temple, it’s lingering and he savours the feeling of Louis’ warm skin beneath him. He would love to kiss the boy’s lips but it would probably shatter his heart into a million pieces if he were to kiss them while they were unresponsive; he doesn’t think he could cope with that.

 

“He’s absolutely fine love; he’s just getting some more well needed rest aren’t you?” Debbie’s very tenderly rubbing some sort of light pink coloured lotion onto the crusty skin of Louis’ eyes and fuck, Harry hadn’t noticed his eyes.

 

They’re ruined; he hadn’t been prepared for the horrifying sight of them. He can’t see the blue, the ocean colour is missing and instead there’s just a film, a disgusting film of what looks like puss and grime and it’s hiding the blue. Hell, maybe the blue isn’t there anymore and it scares Harry, it makes him full of fury and anger to think that someone’s done this, someone’s taken the light and colour from his favourite pair of eyes and the weight of the anger crushes him. He’s out the door, his legs clumsily galloping along, he has no idea where he’s going and he quite frankly couldn’t care less.

 

“That’s it love, we’ll get your eyes all better and then you’ll be able to see all of these lovely people who are just sitting here and waiting for you,” Debbie’s murmuring as if her voice is solely intended for Louis’ ears and she hasn’t missed a beat; it’s as if the curly haired boy hadn’t just high tailed it out the door and left everyone looking at the place where he’d just been stood with utter confusion.

 

“Where’d Ha…” Niall begins but he’s cut off by Dan pulling himself to his feet.

 

“I’ll go find him mate, he’ll not have gone far, there’s too many people out there and he’s not daft enough to try get through that. You lot just stay here and keep Lou company. I’ll bring us all some food back from the canteen.” Dan’s kissing Jay on the top of her head and turning to leave when he could swear that he hears a snort come from the pretty nurse who’s occupied with cleaning eyes.

 

“Sorry,” It’s as if Debbie’s noticed that there’s a tall man staring at her questioningly, “It’s just, you’re preparing them for canteen food and that’s not the best, I’ll see about ordering in for you all as soon as I’m done with this.” And she’s smiling, her attention returned to the sick boy and she misses the thankful eyes of the room’s occupants at the mention of real food.

 

Dan’s feet carry him along, he has no idea where Harry’s got to, but he is sure about what he told the others; there’s no way in hell he would have gone out to face the flock of journalists and fans that are keeping a constant vigil outside of the hospital. None of them have watched the news or paid attention to the newspapers that are scattered around the hospital; each one with a picture of Louis grazing the cover and dozens of captions from misinformed journos who are putting in their two pence worth of opinions.

 

Eventually, after he’s done the rounds of all the corridors on their floor his eyes fall upon the door of the stairwell, and he knows that that will be the door that Harry fled through.

 

Up the steps he climbs and soon enough he has to make a decision; there’s more stairs continuing upwards and heading to the roof terrace garden that sits on top of the concrete hospital, or there’s the door in front of him, with a big plaque on that reads, NICU.

 

Dan’s heart sinks; as if it isn’t already enough for them all to be consumed with sadness over Louis, Harry’s gone to torture himself over sick newborns and Dan knows, now without a shadow of a doubt, that this is the door that Harry’s hiding behind.

 

So he pulls it open with a sigh and cries of infants ring loudly in his ears. It doesn’t take him long to find Harry, his curls are standing out noticeably and his form is about a dozen times bigger than any other occupant in the ward. There’s no parents, just a few nurses scattered at their stations at the other end of the corridor and Dan goes to join Harry, mindful of the way the younger is trying to hide the fact that he’s rubbing desperately in an attempt to rid himself of his watery eyes.

 

“Hey,” It’s choked and spluttered and Harry’s voice is wet with tears but it’s all Dan needs to hear as he pulls Harry towards him and wraps him a hug.

 

“Hi mate,” Dan’s not got any kids of his own but from being with Jay and having her children fill his world with their vivaciousness; it’s really no surprise that stood here with Harry now he feels like a father.

 

“This is Hope,” Harry shakes his head at the tiny little girl who’s curling her toes and snuffling in a fitful sleep, “She’s so small and weak and it says that she was only born a few days ago and she doesn’t have much of a chance but her parents, fuck, her parents, they’ve called her Hope. As if that’s all they’re waiting for, to know whether or not their little girl is going to make it and the world’s so fucking cruel, it’s not bloody fair.” And Harry’s actually just stomped his right foot on the floor with the injustice of it all. It’s not fair that this little girl doesn’t seem to stand a life.

 

Dan just holds Harry loosely, an arm wrapped around his back, as the young man trembles and rants about how the little girl doesn’t stand a chance in the big bad world which is so full of evil.

 

“Shh Harry, come on, don’t do this to yourself, don’t do this, don’t torture yourself over this,” Dan’s trying to stop the boy who’s sobbing now, his eyes red and rubbed raw.

 

“Like, why should she have to go through all this? Why? She’s only little and she hasn’t even done anything, how come this has happened to her, and all the others, there’s so many and none of them seem to stand a chance and it’s just so fucking cruel.” Harry stops his flow of words and instead rubs his hand around his face, mixing his dribbles of snot into the wet of his tears and the whole mess stains his cheeks but he couldn’t care less.

 

“She stands a chance mate, small maybe, but by no means insignificant. She’s here and her little heart is still beating, just like Louis’ and she’s still fighting. And you know what H?” Dan’s turning Harry now and forcing him to meet his eyes, “Mate, she’s fucking winning. There’s nothing wrong with having a little hope in life so you need to have your own, for Lou.”

 

Harry’s knees give out a little but it doesn’t matter because Dan’s caught him and pulled him in for a hug and it’s almost as if his own dad has wrapped him in his arms like he used to when Harry was a kid. He feels safe and comforted and it’s enough to break down the last remaining walls. He doesn’t really cry though, it’s more of a dawning realisation that they can face anything in life, so long as they’re surrounded by their loved ones, and it doesn’t matter if they can’t hear or speak or see, it doesn’t matter if they have no hands to touch, or no legs to walk with, so long as they still have their hearts beating loud and strong within their chests, they’re alright.

 

“Thank you,” Harry murmurs his thanks, he’s drying his eyes and pulling himself tall and standing straight again. His shoulders are slightly hunched and his curls are a little wet with tears but he’s laughing when he takes in the near identical sight of Dan staring back at him; the older man having seemingly been unable to stop himself from crying too.

 

“What do you say about us heading back to our Louis? Leave this little girl in peace, God knows, all she was doing was trying to catch forty winks and instead she’s had Harry Styles sobbing over her,” Dan chuckles and sends an affectionate smile at the small girl in the crib, the one with the tiny pink wristband on reading “I’m a Girl.”

 

And Harry nods, he lets Dan step away and begin to walk back down towards the door, but he lets his eyes fall upon the form of Hope, the girl who’s heart is still fighting and he whispers, the words floating through the air and back into his ears, “I’ll come back soon Hope, and I’ll bring the boy that I love with me, I can’t wait for him to see you.”

 

And maybe it’s the use of the word ‘see’ in connection with Louis, the young man who’s eyes are no longer able to function properly, but Harry has Hope now, he’s consumed with the most intense realisation that anything is possible, _so long as you have hope._  

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment: Just in case any of you wonder, a “tab” is another word for “cigarette” … I just hate the words “fag” and “ciggy” and to be honest I don’t see any of the boys saying either of those. Sorry this chapter is shorter than usual; I've had drama with one of cats and spent the day at the Vets thinking he was going to have be put down but he hasn't!!! :)))) And I have family arriving in a few minutes for the weekend so I'm afraid I won't update until next week, I'll make sure it's good and long though :) Thanks as always :))

Zayn watches as Debbie murmurs to the pack of nurses surrounding her, Louis’ lying on the bed and Zayn knows fine well that the boy is awake; he’s just doing a sterling effort of ignoring everyone and everything around him. Zayn sighs and rubs a slightly trembling hand over the few days’ worth of scruff that’s settled on his jaw; he’s craving a tab but he needs to be here for his friend more. Louis had requested vehemently that everyone leave him, it seems that the boy is struggling and he hates the idea that everyone is just sitting around watching him suffer in a hospital bed. Nobody had wanted to leave him but after Louis’ blood pressure continued to rise Doctor Dawson insisted they comply to his patient’s wishes for the time being.

 

Louis hadn’t thanked the Doctor for his intervention; the only words that had slipped through the young man’s lips were angry and loaded with frustration. Zayn had stayed, in secret while all the others had left reluctantly, and it had been a full hour of sitting and just watching over Louis before he had even made his presence known.

 

Sure, Louis had hurled a tonne of verbal abuse at him, slinging insults and insisting that he didn’t want the younger boy there. But Zayn, he’d listened; he just didn’t do what Louis wanted him to.

 

Louis has been in a bitter mood ever since, and the display of outright stubbornness still serves as enough to make a smirk tug on Zayn’s lips.

 

“Right love, we’re ready when you are,” The nurses are dispatching now, all going their own way presumably with some sort of medical mission to complete and Debbie’s busy pouring out some more liquid ointments that Zayn assumes are intended for Louis.

 

No response is given from the sick boy and Zayn rolls his eyes, allowing them to hover upwards at the ceiling as if some higher power is actually going to be able to make his older friend cooperate.

 

“Okay then,” Debbie ignores the silence and Zayn decides he likes her; he likes her even more when she simply overlooks Louis who huffs audibly and tries to snuffle his way under his duvet a little more.

 

“Come on Lou,” Zayn steps in, trying to chivvy the sulking boy along.

 

“Fuck off,” Comes the huffed reply; slightly muffled under the bed sheet.

 

“Excuse me young man,” Debbie steps in and Zayn wants to tell her not to bother; he doesn’t mind and, to be quite honest, every one of the band has said far worse than that to each other throughout the years. But Debbie powers on regardless of Zayn’s intake of breath. Her tone is authoritative and Zayn reckons that if he were in Louis’ position he sure as hell wouldn’t mess with her. “I understand that you’re going through some things, but this boy, sorry dear I don’t think I know your name...”

 

“Zayn” He supplies, eyes honing in on Louis and waiting intently for his next movement.

 

“Zayn,” Debbie smiles as if she’s deciding that she approves of his name, “Well Louis, Zayn is here as your friend and I’m sure he wants to see better behaviour than that I’m sure. So do I for that matter. So come on now, let’s get this over and done with and then I can go and see my other, much happier looking patients and you can continue to lie there and despise the world.”

 

Louis is actually pouting now, there’s a frown set on his face and it’s making his forehead crinkle and Zayn thinks he looks pretty adorable; if it weren’t for the fading bruising and bandage covered eyes.

 

Debbie takes Louis silence for resignation and decides to continue on with her job, irrespective of whether the boy wants her to or not.

 

“Zayn, dear, come here and help me with this would you?” And normally she’d get a nurse, despite it not being a technical job they should always be using the medical employees, rather than a patient’s friend. Yet this is a fairly odd situation and she’s listened to One Direction over the years, watched a couple of their interviews and even bought some of their singles. She knows them, not personally, and maybe she doesn’t know who is who but she knows that there’s something about these five boys that has made the world go crazy. She’d heard all about Louis disappearing and she’d been relieved when she’d found that he’d been found alive. She cares for every person that crosses her path, patient or not, it’s in her nature; and she cares for Louis. She wants this next part to go as smoothly as it can and she knows that it wouldn’t help to have a stranger complete this next bit with her.

 

Zayn shuffles towards the bed and awkwardly hovers beside Debbie, awaiting instructions. He’s trying hard to ignore the way that Louis’ just curled his little hands into fists; ensuring that Zayn couldn’t hold his hand.

 

“All I need you to do is hold this bowl for me to put the used bandages in, and then, when they’re off just set it on the table here and I’ll tell you what’s next after that.”

 

Zayn nods his understanding and takes the empty bowl, holding it out next to Debbie as she begins to uncoil the wrap from Louis’ eyes. Piece by piece the bandages are removed; there’s a lot more of them than Zayn had first thought. He had assumed it was just one long piece wound around Louis’ eyes and head. But it’s actually dozens of different strips and as each one is peeled off there are more and more traces of liquid on them. When it gets done to the final few strips, there are yellow stains speckled here and there. It takes a moment for it to dawn on Zayn that the stains are actually puss; that has seeped its way out of Louis’ infected eyes and through the layers.

 

The realisation combined with the sight make his weak tummy feel a little queasy and he’s about to drop the bowl, turn around and maybe vomit a little, but then his eyes flitter over the rest of Louis.

 

The brunette’s fingers are curled around the bedding now, holding on tightly and Zayn can see the whites of his knuckles where he’s gripping so hard. His top lip is being chewed by his teeth and he’s bitten it so much that it’s chapped and bleeding. One of his legs is shaking and it’s bouncing the cover a little. And Zayn’s heart sinks when he sees just how afraid Louis is.

 

He’s afraid of his own fucking _eyes_.

 

Zayn holds the bowl tighter, newly resolved to swallow back the bile that was just clawing its way up his throat; he’s doing this for Louis. It may not be much but he’s going to stick with it, he’s not going to run away. And yeah, the sight makes him feel sick, but, he thinks bitterly, _at least I can see._

 

“That’s it, loves, all done with that part.” Debbie’s just tossed the last strip of bandage into Zayn’s bowl and nods to him signalling for him to place it on the table.

 

“Now, let me just check,” Debbie’s checking the little clip watch that hangs down from the pocket of her uniform and talking to herself quietly as if completing a checklist. Her voice then rises back to its normal volume, “We’ve just got time to get them all cleaned up.”

 

Zayn perhaps isn’t listening, or paying enough attention because he doesn’t really register what Debbie is saying. He’s still staring at Louis and he really wants to wrap the boy into his arms and make all of this shit go away. He can see now, the way that Louis’ scrunching his eyes together, he probably doesn’t even know he’s doing it.

 

“Could you just hold that for me please Zayn? I’ll let you know when I need another,” Debbie’s passing him two bowls, one of cotton wool pads and the other of cooling water.

 

Debbie takes a cotton pad at a time and spends a long time rubbing away gunk from each eye. She’s gentle and methodical, just taking her time to clear the grime and puss away.

 

Zayn can see, as she removes more and more, that there’s little strips of skin that are rubbed raw; they make the eye lids look as though they’ve been scraped with something. He doesn’t know what and he probably wouldn’t even believe it if someone told him it was caused by the sticky ductape.

 

Just as Debbie finishes up, there’s a knock at the door and it shocks Zayn so much; because it’s just been the three of them immersed in their own bubble for so long that he drops a bowl. The water spills and the china clatters against the bed rail and then bounces along the floor. He’s already chasing after it, trying to stop the noise and he doesn’t really spare a thought about the water. He doesn’t realise that it had fallen onto Louis’ unsuspecting arm and that the poor boy had been so shocked by the noise and pain of the bowl nudging him on its way to the floor, and feeling the tepid water that soaked his arm, that he’d wet himself.

 

His catheter is there to catch the running urine but Louis’ never been so ashamed of himself. He’s just gone and pissed all over himself like some sort of unpotty trained toddler and if that wasn’t bad enough, he’s done in front of some poor woman and one of his best friends. The feeling of embarrassment and shame bubbles up inside him and turns his face red; he doesn’t know that though because his eyes don’t flipping work but he can feel the heat rising to the surface of his cheeks. It also really fucking hurts to pee; the Doctor, he doesn’t care to remember his name, had told him that it would hurt to wee for the next few days thanks to the infection he has been suffering through as a result of his low intake of dirty water whilst he’d been missing.

 

Zayn’s just standing up, having successfully managed to tame and catch the spinning now empty bowl. He’s puzzled when he faintly smells the stench of the urine and he doesn’t realise that it’s his friend until he stupidly says, “Is it just me or does it stink of piss?”

 

And Louis’ mortified now, he’s so ashamed of himself and he wants so much to sink into his bed and mould into the mattress. He’s just thinking that he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to face Zayn again and then he realises that maybe he won’t. Thanks to his useless eyes he’ll probably never have to see Zayn again; he’ll never have to see the look on Zayn’s face when the brown eyes stare back at him and yell _haha we’ve seen you wet yourself._

And Jesus Christ, he’s sobbing, just when he thought he was getting over his breakdowns, he’s in floods of tears again. They’re wracking and shaking his body and he’s quivering and there’s snot yet again running down his nostrils and there’s more gunk building in his eyes and there’s flem trying to choke him deep in his throat and hey, maybe he’s wetting himself some more. Who knows? It’s not like he’ll ever see the mess he’s making.

 

“Oh, I can come back later if this isn’t a good time?” The man who knocked on the door grabs Zayn and Debbie’s attention. He’s handsome and young and has a jaw line that could rival Zayn’s own and as Zayn’s eyes quickly check over his form, he notices the nametag says “Mark.”

 

“No, no, you come along in, don’t mind us, we’ve just had a little fright. Just give us a sec to get sorted, then he’s all yours,” Debbie’s smiling but it doesn’t do anything to help ease Zayn’s concern; he’s focussed on Louis again now and the boy appears to be near hyperventilation.

 

“Hey, Lou, it’s alright mate, I just dropped the bowl, that’s all it was,” Zayn’s trying to soothe the whimpering mess of a boy but it doesn’t work, he rests his hand on Louis’ smaller one and cups his fingers around it, but Louis just shakes him off.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m, please just go, I’m sorry,” Louis’ spluttering and Zayn can only just make out the words.

 

“No mate, I’m here and I’m gonna stay, I just don’t want you being upset,” Zayn’s trying to catch the hand once more.

 

“I’m sorry, can’t control myself, like a fucking child, I’m so sorry, I dunno why I can’t,” Louis’ got a thumping headache now; he just wants everything to _stop_. He doesn’t understand what’s happening and he’s scared and he’s still so embarrassed and he wishes that Zayn would just do as he asks. But he doesn’t care to waste anymore energy when the other boy is adamant that he’s going to do the exact opposite of what he wishes; so he just slumps in the bed and lets his whole body flop down.

 

Debbie’s making some weird little action with her head at Zayn and he’s confused as hell, he’s pretty sure his facial expression must be one of total and complete bafflement. She’s kinda jerking her head between the bowls, the floor, the bed and then gesturing downwards at Louis. It’s like some sort of mind puzzle and Zayn’s about to jokingly quip whether he can call a friend or ask the audience, but then, the audience seems to intervene anyway.

 

“Uh, do you need me to call someone for a catheter change?” Mark’s kind of hopping from foot to feet and he manages to look spectacularly awkward and out of place and Zayn knows that Louis would find the sight hilarious but then his stomach drops when he realises the boy can’t see it.

 

“No you’re alright love, I can manage, I’ll just finish this in two seconds and do that and then I’ll finally be out of your way.” Debbie’s finishing off wiping away the newly formed gunk from Louis’ eyes that are a result of his tears.

 

Zayn’s opening his mouth to say that he’ll leave too; if Mark needs him too.

 

But he’s interrupted; “Zayn’s going to stay and keep Louis company, as long as that’s alright with you Mark?” Debbie’s peeling back Louis’ bed covers and Zayn’s turning his friend; trying to grant his band mate a little privacy but something catches his eye and he swings his head back round lightening fast. There’s dozens of wounds, little jagged cuts marring Louis’ legs and he hadn’t even really thought about the other things that Louis had suffered through. He knows that the boy had been found, with ankle and wrist cuffs but the urinary and eye infections have been all that have really filled his mind.

 

“Fuck,” He whispers and his heart sinks a little more when he sees Louis flinch on the bed.

 

“Sorry,” Comes the raspy mumble and it takes a minute for Zayn to process it.

 

Then he’s hurrying to Louis’ side, the opposite one to where Debbie is, and he runs his hand through his friend’s softly bed tousled hair.

 

“No Lou, fuck, that’s not what I was meaning. Don’t worry about it okay? God knows me you and the boys, we’ve all had our fair share of embarrassing moments and this isn’t one of those anyway. It’s just me in here with you, not H, or Ni or the others. Just me and you’ve got nothing to be sorry for babe, you haven’t done anything wrong. You just have to get better okay because, fuck, I miss snarky sassy Louis.”

 

“Well, Mr Tomlinson, I’m all done with you for now. But, I’m afraid you haven’t got peace and quiet just yet, there’s someone here to see you, he’s going to check your eyes for you now. I’ll leave him to explain. But don’t you go getting into anymore trouble alright? I like you too much to have to put you on my naughty patient list.” Debbie’s full of affection and she clasps her hand around one of Louis’ shins before exiting the room.

 

“Hi there Louis, I’m Mark, it’s nice to finally meet you!” Mark’s moving closer to Louis and Zayn and opening his briefcase as he moves.

 

“Yeah,” Louis replies grumpily.

 

But Mark doesn’t let that bother him, Zayn does though, he knows his friend is suffering but he wants the boy to cut it out with his rotten behaviour, so he tugs on his hair a little; pulling at the strands enough to make Louis yelp.

 

“Behave Lou; he’s here to help you, it’d be easier on all of us if you’re just a little bit nice.”

 

“Fuck you,” It seems that Louis doesn’t care, either for being nice or for Zayn’s opinion.

 

Mark’s watcher their interaction with a little uncomfortable smile on his face, he’s looking between the two friends and it seems as though he’s not had much experience in dealing with anyone quite like Louis before.

 

“Okay, it’s alright, I just want to go over a few things with you today quickly and then once we see where we’re at in terms of your eyesight --”

 

He’s interrupted by a low mumbling from the bed saying, “There is no fucking eyesight.”

 

Mark chooses to ignore it but doesn’t miss the brown eyed boy rolling his eyes exasperatedly.

 

“And then, once I have a better indication of how well you can see, I’ll go and create us an optical plan, something for us to work with each session.” Mark is setting up an easel type thing at the foot of Louis’ bed and he’s putting on a piece of yellow coloured paper.

 

“Alright, when I tell you, I just want you to try and open you try and open your eyes for me, I know they’ll feel stiff and sore but you need to just work through that unfortunately.” Mark explains and he’s stopped all action altogether now, just standing and watching Louis instead,

 

Nothing happens.

 

“You even sodding trying mate?” Zayn’s getting fairly pissed off; he knows that Louis’ not having an easy time of it but the kid isn’t helping himself.

 

“Give it another go for me please Louis, just go ahead and try opening your eyes.” Mark’s trying to chivvy him along; spur him into action and get him to actually work at getting better.

 

Nothing happens.

 

“Come on Tommo, you’ll never get anywhere if you go on like this,” Zayn’s running a gentle hand across Louis’ scalp now in an effort to calm the boy.

 

Neither Mark nor Zayn know that Louis wants to try, he really _really_ does, but he’s just so fucking afraid and that must make him weak. He’s scared that even if he does try, even if he tries to open his eyes; something he has taken for granted for the past 21 years of his life, he won’t be able to. And the thought of that happening crushes him. It’s almost as bad as the other thought that’s floating through his head; that if he does somehow manage to get his fucking crusty eyes to open; what if he sees nothing? What if that’s it? What if that’s all he has to look forward to every time he opens his eyes… A blank nothingness. The thought terrifies him and makes him furious with the two other occupants of the room for even asking him to try.

 

So he does all he can, he rips Zayn’s hand from his hair in a fit of fury and he winces slightly when Zayn’s shocked hand tugs out a few of his feathered strands. Then he’s shoving the hand away, his dainty fingers digging into Zayn’s wrist harshly and he knows there’ll be a little bruise there. But he won’t have to see it.

 

He laughs, it’s crazed and wild and it shakes him and he knows that he must look like he belongs in an insane asylum and the thought just cracks him up even more. Maybe if they sent him away somewhere he’d actually be left in peace. That’s all he wants.

 

He misses the fucking peace and quiet of the room where he’d been kept.

 

He doesn’t realise the weight of that dark thought though and he doesn’t register when he verbalises it and the words slip through his lips…

 

And Harry and Jay and Stan and everyone else, all of them have been waiting patiently for Debbie and Mark to complete their work, they’ve heard the laughter coming from Louis’ hospital room and each one knows that it belongs to the boy in the bed. They’ve opened the door and crowded around it, Harry slipping through, and they’ve arrived just in time to hear Louis cackle, “Take me back; I want to go back.”

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how long it's taken me to update; I've had a pretty shit month and I hope this is okay... I tried to make it good but I'm finding it hard to concentrate these days. I'd greatly appreciate it if you would let me know what you make of this chapter (and the story as a whole.) 
> 
> There's some Harry and Louis moments too :) 
> 
> Thanks for reading; really really hope you enjoy!

“Louis Tomlinson, member of the band One Direction which is widely regarded as the most popular boy band of all time was hospitalised last week following a frantic search for him when he was reported missing over a week and a half ago. The 21 year old is said to be recovering well in hospital although sources close to the star have said that the boy is in a coma…”

 

Stan huffs and jabs angrily at the power button on the remote, watching as the television flickers off and silence encompasses the room once more. Without anything else to distract him his eyes turn back to watch Louis. The boy had a bizarre laughing fit earlier which worried everyone, their worry increased tenfold when he shouted that he wanted to be taken again, and so Doctor Dawson had decided to sedate the boy.

 

He’s just watching Louis, the way that his chest moves a little with the weight of his inward and outward breathes, the rhythm soothing; more so than the manic laughter at least.

 

“You’re going to get better from this mate, please, just like, have your rest now; have as much as you want Lou. But please, when you wake up, please be my best friend again, be the kid from Donny who was always ready to take on the world, I miss him, I miss you, fuck.” Stan’s got a few tears leaking their way through his eyelashes and he sniffs; trying to gain some semblance of control over the emotions that desperately want to pour out of him. “Fuck, I just need you to wake up Lou, we’re all here and we’re all desperate to show you that the world’s still here, you’re still here, your eyes are still there mate, still attached to that thick skull of yours,” Stan gulps out a laugh that’s followed by a loud snotty sniff. “You just gotta open your eyes. Please. Lou, please.”

 

And then it’s back to silence; he’s run out of things to say. He just takes hold of one of Louis’ hands, wraps it safely between both of his own and tries his hardest to smile through his tears.

 

He has no care for the passing of time, he just sits and tries to transfer as much of his own energy into Louis as he can, he doesn’t even know how that would possibly work but he has no concern over the how; he’s just quite simply at the point where he will try anything in the hope that it works in helping his friend.

 

The door to Louis’ hospital room clicks and begins to open; it draws half of his attention from Louis; he keeps his left eye as focussed on him as he can whilst angling his head to the door.

 

“Hi Jay,” He greets Louis’ mum and when he sees the small tremors shaking her body he knows that something’s happened.

 

“Hi love, how’s our boy doing?” That’s the thing Stan loves about Jay; after she’s kissed her son’s forehead she walks around the bed and does the same to him.

 

“No change, the doc said he’d be out for a while. I’m just sitting here trying to say enough so that when he wakes up he’ll have his positive attitude back.” Stan murmurs, watching the gentle rise and fall of Louis’ chest.

 

“He’s never had a better best friend than you, you do know that Stan? I mean, he has the boys now, but they didn’t know Lou when he was growing up; that was you. All those times you boys used to play out with those bloody footballs; God knows how many windows I’ve had to get repaired over the years.” Stan can’t help the grin that forms wide on his face, lips pulling his cheeks and his mind drifts back to the years he spent with Louis being his best friend.

 

“Yeah, er, sorry again for all that…” Stan knows that Jay doesn’t want nor need an apology; both boys had always apologised profusely every time they had a football mishap. Yet he says it anyway and he grins again when Jay just rolls his eyes at him.

 

“I always wondered where Lou got that from,” Stan’s looking at Louis again and then flickers his eyes to look at Jay; when he sees the puzzled look on her face he continues, “the eye rolling thing.”

 

“Oh, yes, all of my kids are good at the old eye roll; used to have to threaten them with an early bedtime if I got them doing it.”

 

Neither of them speak after that; both Jay and Stan’s minds have wandered and they are both wondering if they’ll ever see Louis roll his eyes again.

 

Jay sniffs and clears her throat, “I just spoke to Lou’s Doctor and he said they’re trying to organise for him to have a psych consult; just to see if they can find out what happened to him and why he’s not even trying to open his eyes. I’d rather they didn’t; we all know how stubborn he is and I honestly think it’s more likely to do more harm than good. So,” Jay swallows and looks at Louis for a moment before taking a deep breath and continuing. “I’ve just been on the phone to Simon and he says that he’s been able to get us a place to go to, a mansion I suppose it would be; he says we can stay there indefinitely until we know more about Lou’s condition. There’s not a lot else wrong with him now medically; he’s got his cuts and bruises but they’ll heal with time.”

 

“When would we go?” Stan asks; he and Jay both know that if it came down to it he’d follow Louis straight through the gates of Hell. So going to stay at one of Simon Cowell’s luxurious mansions will hardly be an effort.

 

“Soon as he wakes up; Paul and the boys are working through it with security. We want to make sure we can get out of her without anyone noticing.”

 

Stan snorts at that; he can’t help it and he knows it could come across as unbelievably rude but he’s in the company of Jay and the pair of them have become accustomed to how incredibly difficult it is to live their lives without the intrusion of thousands who are seeking information about Louis.

 

“I know, I know, it sounds ridiculous. But we have to try don’t we? We owe him that much; he’ll be terrified if he hears people screaming and yelling at him and can’t see any of it.”

 

“Course, sorry Jay; it’s just if we want to get him out of the hospital into a car and then drive to one of Simon’s insane mansions followed by security with all of the boys, there’s no doubt that we’ll attract some attention.”

 

“That’s why we aren’t…” Jay’s staring at Stan now and Stan knows that he’s got a look of complete befuddlement on his face. “I want to ask you to go now, with Liam and Harry, Anne is going to go too and we’re going to make it as though Lou’s completely fine and you’re just heading off because there’s a couple of days break now.”

 

“But, still, how are you going to get Lou out of here? And does Harry not want to stay with Lou?” Stan asks, rubbing a hand down his face, trying to push the sleep away that’s gritting his corneas.

 

“Harry wants to stay, of course he does, and we haven’t quite managed to convince him to go through with this plan yet either. But Paul, Dan, Anne and I have talked it through and we all think it’s the best thing to do right now. Doctor Dawson agrees; there’s no use in staying here when Louis’ acting the way he is, and of course he has reason to be like he is right now, but it’s not doing him any favours. The place we’ll be staying in is only a little over an hour away and so we’ll be able to work out something with the Ophthalmologists to continue his treatment.”

 

“When do you want us to go?” Stan asks, eyes glued on to Louis even more than they were before as he now knows that he’ll have to leave his side soon.

 

“As soon as, they’re sorting a car as we speak, the bus is getting driven for a while and they’re going to try and fool people into thinking that you’re on it. See if they can’t get people away from here for when we want to move Louis.”

 

“Okay, it’s worth a shot but I mean I’d be surprised if it was that easy.” Stan holds Louis’ hand in his own and squeezes it a few times gently; as if to let the unconscious boy know that he is not alone.

 

\-----------------------

 

Anne watches as her son shakes with body wracking whimpers; he’s supposed to be bidding a quick farewell to Louis but it looks as though the young man has no concept of speed.

 

“Come on love, let’s get going, sooner we go sooner they’ll bring Lou to you okay?” Anne wraps her hand around Harry’s shoulders and lays her other on top of Harry’s hand which is wrapped around Louis’ own unresponsive one.

 

“But, I shouldn’t, I want to stay,” Harry is gripping Louis tight and his knuckles are turning a little white but Anne doesn’t have the heart to make him let go.

 

“Sweetheart, he’ll be okay, soon as he wakes up and Doctor Dawson checks him over once more he’ll be good to go. We need to make sure that he gets out of here as safely as possible and you and the others leaving now is part of that; the fewer of us leaving at once the better the chances that Louis gets out of here safely.”

“Please mum, don’t make me go without him, I told him I wouldn’t leave him,” Harry’s eyes seem to just continuously hurt these days; they’re a constant source of aching pain. Just like his heart.

 

“Hush now, come on, H, don’t cry anymore darling, he’s Louis Tomlinson; this isn’t going to beat him. You need to give him a kiss and come with me now sweety,” Anne ruffles his wild hair with her hand softly and smiles when he sees the way he loosens his grip on Louis’ hand.

 

“See you soon Lou,” Harry presses his lips once, twice, three times to the corner of Louis’ mouth and turns to leave, but then thinks better of it and lowers his mouth until it’s ghosting off the shell of Louis’ ear. “I won’t be here when you wake up babe but I’m waiting for you so try not to cause too much trouble, alright?” He doesn’t expect a reply though so he settles for leaving one final lingering kiss before following his mum from the room.

 

There’s a van outside; waiting to take Harry, Anne, Stan, Liam to the mansion that Simon’s organised for them. Apparently Lou and Lux and the others who had been at the hospital have already left and managed to convince a small number of the crowd that the others had already snuck out unseen.

 

Harry ignores the world around him and he completely ignores Niall and Zayn who for some unknown reason have been granted permission to stay behind with _his_ boyfriend. _His boyfriend_. It’s been so long since Harry’s actually thought about Louis as his boyfriend; well, not so long but throughout the whole ordeal Harry hasn’t spared much thought for any intimacy with Louis; he has simply wanted his friend back safe and sound.

 

 

\----------------------- 

 

Louis feels the tugs of consciousness and wishes them away; his head is pounding and his body aches. He can hear people murmuring around him and the words sound so far away that they’re unrecognisable but the buzz of them is so irritating he wants to physically hit them. Or run away. He’d love to be able to get up and leave, walk away from it all until the voices were gone.

 

“Go ‘way” Louis’ voice seems to stop the voices; he smiles weakly feeling more than a little proud of his achievement.

 

“Lou? So glad you’re awake sweety, I’m here, so are Niall and Zayn, and Doctor Dawson,” Jay’s voice is soft and low but it’s still so bloody near.

 

“Shh,” Louis doesn’t want talking; he doesn’t _like_ talking. Or rather, he doesn’t like it when other people talk because he has no choice but to listen. Maybe they should have gotten rid of his ears instead. Yes, maybe he can convince one of the boys to partake in some sort of voodoo ritual and use the magic to swap his lack of eyesight for lack of hearing.

 

Proud of his ridiculous and yet perfectly sane decision Louis smiles to himself once more; a small curl of his lips that everyone else watches with apprehension.

 

“Lou? We have a plan darling and you have to listen to us now okay?”

 

And _fuck_ it, he just decided that listening is something that he does _not_ want to do; no matter how much his own mother pleads with him.

 

His voice is no more than a slur but the “No” still sounds out loudly against the silent backdrop of the room.

 

“Louis,” Ah, there’s Zayn with all of his wisdom and sense and Louis isn’t interested in any of that right now.

 

“Sh’t up,” They’re baiting him now, continuously talking at him when they know he doesn’t want to hear any of it.

 

“Louis!” Jay admonishes her son looking at him as though he’s a stranger.

 

“Go ‘way then,” It’s a perfectly reasonable request in Louis’ mind.

 

“No mate, we’re not going anywhere and you may as well listen now because we’re keeping talking and it’s just going to get more and more and more and…”

 

“SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!” Louis yells; it’s the loudest he’s made his voice sound in a while he thinks.

 

“…Annoying,” Niall finishes and Louis can see the grin that’s undoubtedly plastered on his stupid face despite having no eyes.

 

“Louis Tomlinson, don’t you dare speak to anyone like that, dear me, now all you have to is listen to us say a few things and then we will leave you in peace if that’s what you want. And you may as well listen to us son because we can talk _a lot_ more than this!” Jay finishes her admonishment with a fond pat to his head; he feels a little like an imprisoned family pet right now.

 

“Hurry up then,” Louis’ determined not to go down with a fight about this and he wants everyone there to know that he isn’t happy.

 

He feels positively murderous when he hears Zayn chuckle from somewhere at his right hand side and he flings out a weak and pathetic hand as if to hit the boy; but of course he can’t see where the younger is… So he ends up just flailing his limb around in the air for a second before resignedly dropping it back to the bed; all the while his ears filled with the sound of Zayn _and Niall_ chuckling now.

 

Louis’ face is set into a scowl as he grudgingly listens to the plan; he doesn’t understand how the fuck it’ll work but hey, that’s not his concern.

 

“So really, all we need you to do is lie there,” Jay finishes before adding, “And it would be truly _wonderful_ if you could do it without a scowl on your face love.”

Louis doesn’t even think that any of it is worth his reply; after all, if all that he needs to do is lie there it’s not as though he’s going to have to do anything too strenuous. As for the scowl; well he likes the scowl. Maybe he’ll keep it for a while; it feels good to be able to show off how he feels for once and not have to rely on words. The bonus is that he doesn’t have to see the looks of exasperation and annoyance on everyone else’s so it’s a win-win situation for him.

 

“Right… Well, now that we’ve had our _lovely_ chat, why don’t we get moving eh?” The sarcasm in Jay’s voice is prevalent and Louis is a little tempted to replace his scowl with a smirk for a short second. But he doesn’t.

 

“Okay,” Doctor Dawson steps in now and Louis can feel the air moving as he approaches his bed. “What we plan to do is get you loaded into an ambulance down in the bays as there should be no way for cameras to see, as for everyone else; we’re going to put them in a van and then when we’re a little further away from here we’ll move you to them.”

 

“No,” Louis is greatly enjoying this bout of pig-headedness that he’s having right now.

 

“Why not?”

 

“B’cause.”

 

“Louis!” Jay again; anyone would think she wouldn’t be telling her son off for something so little as rudeness considering that he very nearly died during his ordeal.

 

“The plan has been very well thought through --”

 

“And?” Louis’ says just to be particularly irritating; after all, it’s the best entertainment he’s had in a while.

 

“Oi, Lou! We love you, yeah? But you can be a right arse at times, just fucking agree to it and come with us and we can work things out from there… You might as well be in a bed in a mansion than a bed in a hospital.” Zayn argues and now that Louis’ actually paying attention the proposed plan doesn’t sound too bad.

 

“Okay,” He’s playing with his blanket now, the one that’s wrapped around him and covers his body. There must be a loose thread and he’s tugging at it, pulling it and pulling it until someone stops him by lifting up his hand.

 

“Life’s always more dramatic with you love,” Jay kisses his hand; at least, he thinks it’s his mum, he hopes it’s his mum… The idea of Zayn or Niall kissing his hand in such a loving way kinda makes him want to choke.

 

“Harry?” He’s really scowling now, but it’s filled with sadness; he misses his boy and he hasn’t thought about him really until now which makes him feel guilty.

 

“He’s gone ahead love… He’s waiting for you though; getting everything ready with Liam and Stan. So you’ll see him soon.”

 

“Let’s get moving then and you can be on your way…” Doctor Dawson’s instructions fill Louis’ ears and the idea of his Harry waiting for him makes him so giddy that the scowl slips from his face without him noticing.

 

 

\----------------------- 

 

“There are enough beds for the adults; but one of us will have to sleep on the couch I think. You and Lou obviously have the room on the ground floor; that way we don’t have to think about him tackling the stairs.” Liam’s sipping at the cup of tea in his hand, he made it himself and it isn’t half as good as the brews that Louis prides himself in making. Before Liam’s mind can run away with him and ponder the fact that Louis may never be able to see and make a cup of tea the same way again he shakes his head.

 

“Nits again, Liam?” Stan cackles as he enters the room to see Liam flinging his regrowing buzzed head frantically from side to side.

 

“No,” Liam growls, “It was never nits in the first place; I just fancied a change.”

 

“Yeah, sure, and I’m the Queen…” Stan bites back his childish giggle however when he sees Liam start to lift off his seat in his direction.

 

“Who’s the Queen?” Anne asks as she enters the kitchen.

 

“Stan… Apparently! Can’t you tell Anne?” Liam asks, grinning evilly at Stan.

 

“Oh yes, he has quite the posture of the Queen, don’t you Stan love?” Anne laughs and Stan sighs exasperatedly; unsure of how he’s now the one having the Mickey taken out of him when _he’d_ started it!

 

Paul enters the kitchen and the three turn to look at him; “They’re on their way. We’re all set up now. Not sure how long we’ll be here for but we’ve got security making their way here too; we need to make sure that everyone’s safe.”

 

That sobers them all up; there’s no more giggles or smiles because whoever took Louis from them is still out there… The police don’t know who it was because there wasn’t enough evidence in the demolished house for them to trace apparently. It’s also not easy because even if they had a list of possible suspects it’s not like Louis would be able to identify any of them.

 

“They should be here inside of an hour so you lot might as well get some rest or something; I spoke to Dan on the phone and he says that Louis’ already giving them all hell. We’ve spoken with Management and the rest of the US leg has been cancelled; they’re trying to organise the rescheduling now for next year sometime but don’t any of you lot worry about all that right now.” Paul finishes before setting the kettle to boil. 

 

\----------------------- 

“Mum?” Louis’ voice is small and quiet in the back of the van where he’s huddled between Niall and Zayn; he can feel the light weight of Zayn’s head on his shoulder and the short puffs of air on his face tell him that the boy is asleep.

 

“Yes love?”

 

“Can I, like, please can I talk to Harry? Have you got your phone?” Louis doesn’t know why he’s so afraid to ask, maybe he’s spent too long thinking about the horrid thought that someone will have to dial the number for him, someone will have to put the phone directly into his hand and tell him when to press it to his ear. He fucking hates not being able to see.

 

“Of course you can, sweetheart, just give me a sec,” And then yep, there’s the phone, his hand is curled around it and whoever presses it to him doesn’t comment on the tremors running through him.

 

“Hello? Jay is everything okay? Is Lou okay? I knew --” Harry answers the phone; voice frantic and full of worry.

 

“H-Harry?” Louis curses his stammer; since when does he stutter when talking to Harry. Fuck, he didn’t even stutter when he embarrassed himself by splashing his wee on to Harry’s leg back in the X Factor toilets.

 

“Lou? Oh God Lou, I’m sorry I’m not there; they made me leave and I promised you, I know that I promised you…”

 

“Haz, its okay,” Louis thinks he’s crying but it’s hard to tell because it feels as though his eyes are constantly leaking these days. “I just wanted to talk to you. I miss you.”

 

“Oh Lou, I miss you too, you’re on your way here now though right? You’ll be here soon. I can’t wait to see you,” And Louis can almost _feel_ the smile that he knows is on Harry’s face but he can’t help his own heart shattering a little when he realises that all he wants, more than anything else in the whole world right now, is to see Harry. To see his Harry… But he can’t. And he can’t help it when he sobs and he knows, from the way Harry curses softly that he also knows. And it takes the sodding biscuit when Niall curls his hand around his other hand; just to show that he knows it too.

 

“You’ll see me soon Lou, I know it, you will, you’ll see everything soon.” Harry’s sniffling quietly and Louis feels sad when he realises that Harry’s trying so hard to be strong for him. Everyone’s trying to be strong for him and all he’s doing is being a stubborn little shit.

 

“Yeah, I, I hope so Hazza,” And now it’s clear to everyone in the whole damn car that he’s crying because he chokes out a sob at the end of ‘Hazza.’

 

“Do you want to stay on the phone with me babe? We can just talk? Or like just not talk and do it together?” And bless Harry for being so kind and amazing.

 

“Yes please, I’d like that,” Louis’ trying his best not to cry too much but he thinks the words are decipherable. And so, the pair spend the rest of the journey just listening to the other one breathe, and maybe being blind isn’t so bad, so long as he’s not alone.

 

\-----------------------

 

They’ve spent the last hour or so getting Louis settled into his ground floor room. Harry’s watching from the doorway as Louis lies on the bed sleeping. It seems as though the whole escape from the hospital without anyone noticing has worn him out.

 

“Hey H, we’re just serving up dinner, dunno if you want some while Lou sleeps? Or you could eat in here?” Liam asks after he’s sidled up next to Harry and they both just stand watching Louis.

 

“Yeah, thanks, I’ll erm come through, just give me a sec?” Harry asks, not once taking his eyes off of his sleeping boyfriend.

 

“Sure mate,” Liam sends one last glance at Louis’ form before wandering off back the way he came.

 

Harry meanwhile pulls himself up from where he’s been slouched against the doorframe and crosses the room to sit at Louis’ side.

 

“I’m not going for long Lou, just to get some food, so please don’t worry that you’re alone when you wake up; we’re all just in the kitchen. Just like, shout or something. I’ll be as quick as I can.” Harry kisses Louis’ temple and lingers for a moment or two longer than necessary; just savouring the feeling of Louis against his lips.

 

“Love you Lou.”

 

Harry hurries to the kitchen; intent on shovelling the food down his throat as fast as he can so that he isn’t away from Louis for too long. However, his mother scuppers that plan when she seems to mind read his intentions; choosing to drag him into a chair and tuck him under like you would with a child in a high chair.

 

“Eat properly Harry. Louis is fine. Take care of yourself for now please,” Anne chides him motherly before tucking into her own spaghetti bolognaise.

 

There’s not much conversation whilst they all eat; everyone is simply chewing in silence around the massive dining table. The room is quiet and the atmosphere decidedly subdued… Even more so when they here the yells of Louis float along the corridor.

 

Harry’s on his feet and racing to Louis’ side before he even realises it. He barrels through the door of their room and sees him all tangled up in the duvet covers, sweat rolling along his forehead and his lips murmuring words that only he knows.

 

“Shh Lou, calm down, come on, wake up now love, it’s just me, it’s Harry. Shh you’re okay Louis, you’re safe.” He tries to make his voice strong and loud but comforting and calm as well and it’s so difficult when he’s got Louis panicking and in the throws of a nightmare right beside him.

 

“Hey, hey, Louis, come on now, it’s mum,” Jay’s with them now and she’s got some sort of towel in her hand that Harry supposes must be dampened with cool water, she’s rubbing it slowly across his temple and whispering words into his ear and within moments Louis stops moving.

 

“That’s it love, you’re okay, you just had a nightmare sweetheart.”

 

Louis’ quiet and still but Harry knows that he’s awake because he’s spent the best part of three years sleeping beside this boy learning everything he can about him. He’s just about to start talking when there’s a loud rumbling sound and his eyes instantly shoot to Louis’ fading tummy.

 

“Hungry Lou?” Harry smiles affectionately, he’s missed this boy.

 

“Yeah, I guess,” Louis’ reply is short but it doesn’t matter because before he knows it he’s being raised upright and propped up against a pile of pillows.

 

“Be right back with some for you love,” Anne’s voice makes the three of them aware that they’re not as alone as they had thought and when Harry forces his eyes away from Louis he sees the figures of the others crowding silently at the door.

 

Feeding Louis is an experience; the boy is adamant that he get to do it himself and even though Harry had tried to persuade the other boy it had ended up with bolognaise sauce splattering across the bed. Now he’s trying to lift each forkful to his mouth but it’s a slow process because he has to curl each line of spaghetti around his fork and most of the time it ends up that he only has a few strands attached each time. Then when he lifts the fork to his mouth his hand is shaking so badly that any remotely loose strands fall off and land back on the bed. And _then_ , once he finally has the fork near his mouth he has to warily move the four sharp prongs closer until his lips surround them and he can start to chew the food.

 

All the while Harry can do no more than shake his head with frustration at Louis’ stubbornness.

 

Finally, either Louis is full or he’s just grown tired of the repetitive act, he simply just releases the spoon and grins as it clatters noisily against the bowl.

 

“Had enough Boo?” Harry asks, trying to clean up as much of the mess Louis has made as he can.

 

“Yep” Louis’ actually smiling and it sits so well on his face that Harry has to take a second to let the butterflies in his tummy flutter.

 

“Glad to hear it, you’re wasting away; in need of a good meal.” Harry can’t resist stroking his hand against Lou’s cheek and revels in the way that the boy leans into the touch.

 

It’s just the two of them now and Harry wishes he could see Louis’ eyes. He can’t help but think of that expression that’s something like ‘The eyes are the window to the soul’ and maybe that isn’t the exact phrasing but that’s the overall gist of it. He agrees; the eyes tell things that are unseen with the rest of the body. Harry thinks it’s possible to tell exactly how someone feels by merely looking into their eyes and he’s always loved Louis’ eyes. Their colour; how they sometimes look so blue that they make the sea look clear and sometimes, the light catches them and there’s shimmers of grey that sparkle so bright they looks silver. He even adores the _skin_ around Louis’ eyes; the way that it crinkles when Louis giggles.

 

Yes, he can’t wait for the bandages to come off again soon. Louis had been adamant that his eyes had been redressed and he hasn’t let anybody undo it yet; he becomes distressed very quickly if someone even mentions eyes to him.

 

“Haz,” Louis’ unusually timid voice breaks Harry from his thoughts. “Harry do you think, like, pleasecouldIwash?”

 

“Wash?” Harry speaks without thinking; his brain trying to untangle the rapidly spoken words.

 

Louis blushes, feels his face heat up with embarrassment at having to ask his boyfriend if he can wash himself because he hasn’t had a proper wash in God knows how long and he’s sure that he smells and he’s sure that he’s flicked loads of sauce onto himself whilst he was eating and that’s humiliating enough as it is…

 

“Shit Lou,” Harry’s all caught up now and he feels like complete shit when he sees Louis is embarrassed, “Of course you can babe, bath or shower?”

 

Harry thinks that a bath would be easier, especially if Louis doesn’t want him in there with him which is a painful thought to have. But he wants Louis to have as much freedom of choice as he can given that he’s been so restricted over the passed few weeks.

 

“Erm, bath? Please.” Louis replies, his fingers skimming over one another nervously.

 

“Sure, I’ll go run it love,” And Harry’s long legs are just about to uncurl themselves from where he’s been sat cross legged beside Louis when he sees the older boy’s arm reach out as though trying to grab him.

 

“No, please, someone else…” Fuck, that hurts; it’s like a thousand knives to Harry’s gut. Louis doesn’t want him. He wants someone else. He doesn’t want Harry.

 

The thought twirls and twists around his mind and it’s like the devil is graffiti-ing it on the forefront of his mind in giant capital letters with bright red spray paint.

 

“Okay Lou love, I’ll be here when you get out though, if you want me…” Harry tries to keep the dejection out of his voice; after all it’s not fair to make Louis feel guilty about what he wants.

 

“What? You’ll be with me, won’t you?” Louis sounds even more scared now and he has a look of confusion on his face and now Harry’s confused.

 

“But you want someone else Lou… Isn’t that what you just said?”

 

Louis tries to find Harry with his hand, he runs it over the mounds of the duvet and Harry must notice his actions because it’s suddenly picked up and squeezed gently.

 

“I want someone else to run the bath so you don’t have to leave me?” Louis whispers.

 

“Oh.” Harry’s an idiot. A big idiot. The _King_ of the Idiots. He should be like leader of the Idiots and give the entire population lessons onto how to be the best idiot they can be.

 

“What did you think I meant?” Louis asks, somehow understanding that Harry’s an idiot (or maybe he’s always known.) But Harry just laughs at how well the pair knows each other and how idiotic they’re both being; Louis for being shy and embarrassed in front of him and him for not listening and expecting rejection.

 

“Never mind, I thought wrong.” Harry murmurs, his pupils must be the shape of hearts right now with how completely and utterly besotted he is with this boy.

 

Harry smiles at Louis one last time before opening his mouth and shouting for Niall as loudly as he can. Within seconds the boy is racing through the room; panting and eyes looking around wildly.

 

“What? Is everything okay? Fuck Harry you scared me!”

 

Harry laughs and Louis grins and at the sight Irish can’t help but forgive them for making him worry.

 

“Idiots, the pair of you,” It’s clearly not an insult given how bloody fond he sounds and once Harry’s informed him of what he’s to do he totters off to start running them a bath.

 

“Harry?” Louis’ smiling slightly but he still sounds a lot quieter than usual.

 

“Yeah Lou?”

 

“Will you, will you stay with me, please?”

 

Harry wants to tell him that he doesn’t have to keep saying please; he sure as hell never did before this whole ordeal. But he doesn’t; he doesn’t have it in him to tell the boy how to do anything right now. He just clasps Louis’ hand a little harder within his own and whispers that of _course_ he’ll stay with him.

 

Soon enough the bath is run and there are bubbles! Bless the Irish man and his bath making skills.

 

Harry’s tugged Louis up from the bed and supported him as he walked unsteady and unseeing to the bathroom. Now they’re just stood and neither of them are speaking and it’s so quiet they can hear the little fizzy pops as some of the bubbles burst.

 

“Get me naked Styles,” Louis exclaims and it’s so _Louis_ -like that Harry can’t help but release a huge guffaw of laughter.

 

“It’d be my pleasure Louis the Tommo Tomlinson,” And Harry’s carefully undoing each of the buttons on Louis’ loose pyjama shirt, pulling it slowly along each arm at a time and his eyes feast on the skin that’s all Louis beneath.

 

There are cuts and bruises and scrapes that are fading and Harry didn’t know about any of them. He feels anger welling inside of him and he wants to be sick or hit something or yell in to a pillow. But then he sees how much Louis is trembling and he decides to put the thoughts of vengeance and anger aside until Louis’ better … Because Louis _will_ get better.

 

Next the soft plaid bottoms are rolled down to reveal a small pair of black boxers underneath. They follow and Harry lets everything just drop to the floor; he’ll deal with the clothes later. For now though he has one naked boy who looks so afraid and wobbly that he’s likely to topple any moment.

 

“Want me in there with you or you wanna have the tub to yourself?” Harry asks gently.

 

“With me,” Short and to the point and Harry is quickly stripping off. He hasn’t gotten off in the whole time Louis’ been missing and _longer_ ; it’s been far too long since he and Louis had done anything even remotely sexual and he can feel his dick hardening with the sight of Louis naked before him. But he wills it down; now isn’t the time to be assaulting Louis with that; the boy is struggling enough as it is.

 

He manages to get them both in the bath, Louis’ back to his chest and he wraps his arms tightly around the boy in his lap, hugging him close and thankful that his cock isn’t pressing against Louis’ arse.

 

Harry reaches with one hand for the soap while his other rubs lightly on Louis’ skin; drawing soothing invisible circles into the flesh. He cleans Louis’ skin with a tender touch and he winces every time Louis does; when the soap seeps into an unhealed cut.

 

“H-Harry,” Louis’ voice is raspy and his body shudders.

 

“You okay Lou?” Harry inquires; halting his movements in concern.

 

“Need you, p-please?” Louis stammers, trying to jar his body forwards and Harry thinks he wants to be released from the arm he has around his tummy but then, when he feels Louis’ hard cock press up against his soapy hand it dawns on him.

 

“Oh,” He smiles; can’t help it; it’s like some sort of natural reaction. “Let me take care of you babe.”

 

He wraps his hand around Louis’ prick, letting the soap drop into the water with a splash. He’s running his hand around Louis’ shaft, his fingers trailing along the skin, twirling around the head of the flesh before making their way down the vein on the underside. Over and over; lathered with soap and water and Louis’ dick feels so warm and full and heavy in his hand that he feels himself getting hard too… He thinks its okay now; if Louis’ hard then surely he won’t mind if Harry is as well. Louis’ panting where he sits nestled between Harry’s legs and Harry only wishes he could see the boy’s face. But Louis can’t see him either so they’re in the same boat and Harry’s intent on making this as good as it can be for Louis. A few more tugs to Louis’ dick and a little swipe at his heavy balls along with a sucking kiss to the back of the boy’s neck and the boy is coming with a long drawn out cry that sounds wonderfully like ‘ _Harry_.’ The sound of his name falling from Louis’ lips like that, for the first time in far too long, has him coming with a shuddering moan of Louis’ own name.

 

Letting the warm water surround them and wash away their cum, the pair revel in each other’s company and giggle away the bubbles.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so so much, seriously, your kudos and comments and bookmarks make me so happy xD Sorry for having not replied to comments lately; I've been super busy and was desperate to give you all an update :) Thanks for reading! Really hope you enjoy!

Louis feels the tug of consciousness and without thought he curls his hands into little fists and brings them up to rub away the sleep he knows must litter his eyes… His heart sinks into the pit of his stomach when his balled up fists scuff the bandage that’s still wound around his eyes.

 

“Fuck,” He murmurs lowly; he has no idea where he is but given the horizontal position of his body and the fact he can feel a blanket covering him he surmises he’s in bed.

 

There’s no reply though and that scares Louis; normally there’s someone by his side, someone to make waking up a little easier. But as his hands crawl along the mattress at each side of him he encounters no other body.

 

“Harry?” Louis whispers, almost afraid of alerting anyone else to his new found state of consciousness.

 

Once again no reply comes and Louis finds himself becoming more restless so he warily shifts his body until he can feel himself perched over the edge of the mattress. He lowers his slightly trembling legs (the trembling is permanent as it courses through his body these days) and plants his bare feet onto the floor. The carpet feels plush under his toes and he can’t stop himself from curling them a few times; savouring the feeling of the thick wool before pushing himself upright. He has to breathe heavily for a moment or two to balance himself as his body seems quite keen on just toppling back down on to the bed again.

 

Then, once he feels like he can actually stay upright steadily, Louis cautiously puts his right foot forward; he very gently lowers his foot to the floor just to ensure that there isn’t a hazard in his way. Walking like this is extremely slow and Louis can’t help but dig his thumbnails into his index fingers in concentration. The little crescent indents that he’s surely imprinting into his own flesh helps to ground him and after what must be several very long minutes he finds the material under his footfall change. It’s no longer soft carpet but instead what feels like the coolness of a laminate flooring. He can hear his feet touching it now; he can hear the sound of each step as he pads along at a snail's pace.

 

His ears are full of the sounds of his own feet trading along the wood and he misses the voices that he is walking closer to.

 

Louis wants to see, he has no idea where his feet are taking him but he isn’t sure if he cares about where he ends up now. He stops suddenly when his mind suddenly registers that the last thing he remembers is being naked in a bath tub with Harry. He quickly lets his thumbs stop digging into his fingers and instead grasps at his chest sighing in relief when he feels the soft cloth of a t-shirt. He lowers his hands quickly and exhales in relief once more when he feels cotton pyjama bottoms covering his legs.

 

Once happy with the reassurance that he isn’t roaming around blind _and_ naked he begins to move again. This time he notices the voices, a low soft buzz that fills his ears and reminds him of home; he can hear Harry and his mum, Stan and the boys, and he just savours them for a moment. He lets their voices and presence wash over him and he lets a little smile form on his face. After a moment of just enjoying listening to indecipherable words he turns his body and begins walking in the opposite direction. He doesn’t know why; if someone asked him why he had just turned his back to the people he loves most in the world he wouldn’t be able to tell you. There is no logical reason to justify his actions after all and yet he still encourages his feet to carry him away. The voices dissipate into the air and after many trepid steps they fade away altogether until Louis can only hear the sounds of his own breathing. Little puffs of air that fall from his nose and mouth and his hands are still trembling; fingers and thumbs pressed together and his feet scuffing along the laminate.

 

Louis doesn’t realise the moment that he raises his arms and stretches them out in front of him but he does become aware when his outstretched fingers prod into an obstacle. He spends several minutes feeling his way around the obstruction and once his fingers brush against the brass of a door handle he understands that there is a door in his way. He opens it warily and pushes on, feet treading along the floor once more and his arms are stretched out in front of him again. He still feels like he’s alone; he assumes if he had just entered a room with people in it they would have either said something to him in greeting or he would have got that feeling where the hairs on the back of your neck rise up when you can sense someone’s presence.

 

There’s none of that and so he keeps wandering along; he’s trying his best to stay in a straight line but the room that he’s in must be a different shape to the last because he feels himself reach a wall. Deciding it’s safer to use the wall as guidance he walks along side it, his left hand grazing the plaster and all is well until he walks straight into something and feels a sharp stabbing pain in his big toe.

 

“Fuck!” The pain shoots through him and he winces, biting his lip to hold back whimpers of pain.

 

Louis bends, leaning against the wall for support and gropes out blindly with his right hand until he’s clasping his foot; he tries to rub the pain away but it hurts so much and the angle of his body is making him feel nauseous. He wishes he could bloody see what he’d done to his toe but he can’t feel any wetness so it must not be bleeding. The pain is great though and he eases himself down until he’s sitting on the ground, back leaning against the wall still clutching his toe.

 

Bile rises in his throat when he thinks about perhaps never seeing his toe again, just the thought of not knowing whether he’s sliced it open or bent it out of shape has sweat forming in little beads on his temple. He gulps, trying to drink in as much air as he can because his lungs feel deprived; he knows he’s panicking and a tiny part of him realises that it’s ludicrous to react this way but he can’t help it. He seems to have no control over his breathing and his intake of air into his lungs so he just curls his body into a small a ball as possible and tugs his head down to rest it between his knees.

 

Between his gulps and the noise of rushing air that’s swilling around his ears he doesn’t hear the sound of someone approaching him. He doesn’t notice the air move as that same person sits down beside him and it’s only when he feels gentle hands tug his head up that he realises there is someone with him.

 

“You’re okay, Louis, come on now, just breathe okay? Deep breaths; in and out, in and out.” Louis hears the words but he can’t tell who they belong to because there’s still a buzzing filling his ears and he’s still breathing harshly; the pain in his toe doubled by the pain in his chest from his rushed gulps of air. 

 

It’s too difficult to control his breathing now though and he’s panting, loud exhales and he can’t bring the air back in and his lungs are screaming and he needs the air, he needs to drink it, it’s like he’s in some sort of drought and he’s desperate for water but it’s out of reach and his head aches now. His throat and mouth are dry and his chest is full of little stabbing pains like there are needles being poked into him and he can still feel the bloody throbbing in his toe where he bashed it and he still doesn’t know if it’s broken or swollen or bent or bloody and it terrifies him.

 

“Hey, Lou, come on, shh, you’re okay, it’s okay, in and out, in and out,” The mystery person sounds like he’s panicking now too and that does nothing to ease Louis’ own worries and it makes him panic even more. It’s really hurting now, stab stab stabbing pains right into his chest and it’s like he’s run a marathon; there’s a stitch in his side and it’s sore and his body seizes, jerking and tensing as his body tries to ride out the pain.

 

“With me Lou, breathe with me,” Whoever it is has his hands now, uncurling them from where they’ve been clasped in fists and now they’re cradled in two other hands; the thumbs rubbing along the backs of them.

 

“In, Lou, breathe in and out, come on you can do it, you know how to, you just have to breathe,” One of his hands is being moved and he feels it press into the warm weight of someone else’s firm strong warm chest.

 

“Feel my heart Lou, feel it beating and match yours with it, you’re okay, you’re absolutely fine, I’m here and you’re not alone.”

 

His hand is still pressed into the person’s chest and he _can_ feel the thumping beat of the other person’s heart and it grounds him, gives him something else to focus his attention on other than the pain that’s filling him. He doesn’t even notice that the fingers of his other hand are scrabbling and searching and entwine their grip into the material of the other person’s shirt.

 

“That’s it, well done, you’re doing so good Louis, just keep breathing, in and out and you’ll be fine, you’re okay.” There’s a hand massaging at the back of his neck now and Louis hadn’t realised he was so tense.

 

“Well done Louis, you’re doing much better,” The voice sounds more familiar to Louis now and he can almost distinguish the person it belongs to but he the moment that he tries to place the name he feels his breathing stumble once more.

 

“No, no, come on, keep trying Lou, just in and out, you don’t need to worry about anything else, everything’s okay, you’re okay,” The person is pressed up right beside him now and there’s still a heart beating loud and strong beneath Louis’ shaking hand.

 

Eventually, after many painful gulps and pathetic sobs, Louis feels like he finally has control over his breathing. But the person doesn’t release him just yet, they hold onto him instead, clutching his body to theirs as if trying to hide him away.

 

“I’m proud of you Louis,” The voice is gentle and caring and suddenly Louis knows who it belongs to.

 

The instant he realises who it is that’s just helped him through the most terrifying panic attack he tightens his hold on the other person and he knows that he must be the spitting image of a terrified little boy but that doesn’t matter; after all, in this moment that’s _exactly_ what he is. He knows that his voice will be croaky and rough and he may not actually be able to make it loud enough for the other man to hear at all; but that doesn’t stop him from muttering _“Thank you Paul”_ out loud.

 

When Louis eventually feels strong enough he moves one of his hands and scrapes it harshly across his face, lifting his cheek and lip with the movement and scuffing over the bandage that’s permanently wound around his eyes.

 

“You’re okay Louis, you’re absolutely fine so we’re just going to sit here, me and you until you want to get up. Alright? So don’t rush; take your time and everything is fine.” Paul’s voice is close, the breathes of the words hitting off Louis’ ear and it’s such a comfort; to have someone so close to him and maybe he’ll believe that he’s okay sometime soon.

 

Louis wants to ask ‘why’; the word is on the tip of his tongue. He wants to know why this has happened to him, why has he had to go through all of this, why has he lost his eyes, whywhywhy. He doesn’t ask though; as much as he wants to he can’t actually bring himself to speak the question aloud. He can feel Paul beside him and he knows that the man’s eyes will be watching him, drinking in the sight of his pathetic form hunched over on the floor and he wants to feel some sort of shame at being seen like this but he can’t. He doesn’t feel much besides an overwhelming sense of sadness and without sparing a thought over his actions he raises one of his fists and pounds it into his thigh with as much strength as he can muster.

 

He doesn’t expel a whimper or groan at the self inflicted injury- instead he relishes the control he has over the pain and he raises his fist to do it again; desperate to repeat the action. However, he should have expected that Paul wouldn’t let him get away with it a second time and just as he lifts his fist he feels Paul grab his hands.

 

“Hey, no, no, none of that, Louis, stop, none of that,” His hands are being held tightly in Paul’s and he has no control over them any longer.

 

With resignation Louis lets his head drop, chin falling to rest upon his still heavy breathing chest and he just lets his hands sit motionless in Paul’s own and the two men just sit, resting side by side, their hearts still beating in their chests as time ticks slowly by.

 

\-----------------------   

 

Whatever Paul was expecting to find as he entered the house from where he had just left the patrolling security team outside; it certainly wasn’t this. Seeing Louis in a ball on the floor sobbing and shaking, struggling to suck in the air he so desperately needed in order to breathe. Paul didn’t hesitate before racing across the room to be at the younger’s side and he wanted to wrap him up, carry him somewhere safe and shield him away from everything that was causing him anguish.

 

Paul thinks of the boys as his own children; he loves them and watches over them, protecting them in any way he can and he knows that their families, the ones that bid farewell to their sons back on the X Factor; they expect no less from him. It’s not only his job to look after the boys’ welfare but it’s now become important to him in a different way; he’s grown close to all of them and genuinely feels a little like a father figure to each of them.

 

He has Louis wrapped up within his grip now and he just watches, eyes sad, as the small boy shakes within his embrace.

 

“Doing so well with all this Louis, there’s no right or wrong way, but you can’t hurt yourself like that, you’re okay,” Paul whispers; directing his voice right into Louis’ ear so that he has no choice but to hear the words as he speaks them.

 

“You just need to take some deep breaths, in and out, just relax, you’re okay, everyone is okay,” Paul doesn’t want to ever let go of the boy next to him, the one that may be a 21 year old world famous singer and footballer but who still has the innocence of a child.

 

“Paul?” The sound of Louis’ voice startles the older man.

 

“Yeah, Louis?”

 

“Where am I?” The innocence and uncertainty of Louis’ voice makes Paul feel sad, and old, weary beyond his years. It’s not that he had forgotten that Louis can no longer see; it’s more that he keeps forgetting what that means. As much as it doesn’t make sense, it is one thing to see someone with bandages over their eyes and realise that they don’t have any vision but it’s another to continuously remember what the world must be like to someone who’s blind.

 

“Oh Lou, you’re in the dining room,” Paul squeezes Louis’ hands within his own; “Do you want me to show you around? We could have a little walk and get you used to everywhere, only if you want though?” It’s the least he can do to offer that, such a small gesture and he isn’t even sure if Louis will want to; after all, who exactly wants to be dragged around somewhere that they can’t even see. Just as Paul is thinking this he hears Louis’ voice;

 

“Yes, please, I want to, yes please Paul.” It’s so distinctly _un-Louis-like_ that it almost makes Paul feel uncomfortable.

 

He doesn’t spend anymore time dwelling on the negatives though and decides that he will help Louis in any way he can so he cautiously manoeuvres them both upright, making sure to steady Louis when he feels the boy wobble. Once Paul is sure that they are both able to stay upright he wraps an arm around Louis’ small waist and proceeds to walk them around the outline of the room until they reach the door through which Louis had stumbled earlier.

 

“That’s the dining room, there’s a table in the middle and that’s it, that’s all there is in here besides of course that chest that we walked around. This is the door and it brings us out in to the corridor which has your room, the kitchen, the lounge and the entrance foyer all coming off from it.” Paul summarises as he waits for Louis to say where he wants to go next.

 

“Can I, like, please can I go outside? Will you take me?” Louis’ voice is soft and trembling and Paul tugs him snug into his side.

 

“I’m sorry Louis, but we can’t go out, not just now, they’re still setting up some stuff out there,” Paul is trying not to give too much away to Louis, he doesn’t want him to worry about any of the dangers that are still lurking in the world outside of the mansion. “Maybe later, bet you’ll be wanting some breakfast, yeah?”

 

There are so many questions that Louis wants to ask but the first one that slips from his mouth is, “It’s morning?”

 

“Shit,” Paul mutters utter his breath before realising that Louis can hear him, “Yeah, kid, it’s morning alright, you slept the whole night through it seems.” Paul sighs and runs his hand firmly along the back of the younger’s neck; trying to soothe away the tension.

 

When he doesn’t hear any response he just begins to lead Louis along the corridor and as they walk he informs the boy quietly of their movements.

 

“We’re just about to go into the lounge, get you sat down with everyone and then I’ll go grab some ice for that toe of yours.” Paul doesn’t give Louis time to argue (which he knows he wants to because his face has just been consumed by a frown) and instead just pushes open the door and pulls Louis into the room behind him.

 

Everything stops. Everyone’s looking at them and Paul can see the questions that burn in their eyes.

 

“Hey everyone, found this one on my way here so thought I’d bring him through,” Paul explains as he manoeuvres Louis to the couch where Zayn and Niall shuffle apart to make room for him.

 

All of the occupants offer greetings to Louis but he doesn’t really acknowledge them, he just nods his head once and then curls up as much as he can on the couch; trying his best to not let any part of him touch the bodies of Zayn and Niall on either side of him.

 

“You okay Lou?” Zayn’s whispering in his ear and it makes Louis jump a little; it’s awful to sit here and know that the eyes of so many are focussed solely upon him.

 

“Fine,” He murmurs; hoping it will be enough to appease them all.

“What happened to your toe love?” Jay asks quietly and it makes Louis curl up a little more, trying to make himself as small as possible because his mum must be the other side of the room and yet she sounds so close and it’s deceiving and he’s no longer sure of anything.

 

“Banged it,” Louis knows he’s talking to his knees but he doesn’t care; he can hear the words as he speaks them so maybe the others can too and if they can’t then he doesn’t really care anyway.

 

“Here you go mate,” Paul’s back and Louis feels something ice cold pressed to his toe and it makes him jump, he hears the sound of someone swearing a quiet ‘fuck’ and he realises he must have jerked his foot straight into Paul.

 

“Sorry,” He offers, still addressing his knees.

 

“Nah, not your fault, I should have given you some warning,” Louis can hear the sincerity in Paul’s voice but it does nothing to comfort him.

 

“You shouldn’t have to warn me,” Louis’ says quietly, almost as if he’s actually afraid of anybody hearing the words but he _needs_ to say them out loud.

 

There’s silence and it weighs a tonne, pressing the atmosphere of the room right down and it’s as if everybody is holding their breathe and waiting for something, _anything,_ like Louis is waiting to see if he can ever use his eyes again.

 

“Should you? Huh? No! No you shouldn’t! Everybody has to fucking _warn_ me if they’re walking near me or, or like fucking do everything for me, I can’t eat or drink or walk or do _anything_ without someone, one of _you,_ doing it for me!” Louis’ voice gets increasingly louder with the more that he says and by the end of his yelling, he’s sobbing and shaking and he doesn’t need to be able to see to know that there’s a shocked and taken aback expression on everyone’s faces.

 

“I’m sorry mate, I’m sorry,” Paul is trying to soothe him while still holding the bag of ice to his foot; for all Louis knows it could be a bag of frozen peas or a bag of slowly thawing chips, he can’t fucking see and Paul could be using anything to try and stop the swelling of his toe… Which he can’t bloody see either!

 

“Don’t fucking apologise! Stop apologising! Stopstopstop! Like what’s the fucking point, I don’t have a choice, this is it, this is it for the rest of fucking stupid bloody life and, and, I can’t even bloody tell if I’m crying anymore,” Louis’ laughing by the end of it, loud sobs of choked laughter and sadness and then he’s kicking out again; his ears taking in the light thud as Paul must drop the bag of ice to the floor.

 

He can hear Harry’s murmured voice but he doesn’t pay attention to it, he just hugs himself tighter together and wishes the world away; or his life away, it’s all the same right now.

 

The sound of soft footsteps surround him then and it scares him; so much movement all at once, so many people walking and whispering and some are close and some are far. He feels the sofa cushions rise up on either side of him as Zayn and Niall must move and it scares him more than he’d care to admit and perhaps when he lets out a whimper; he’s realising that he’s equally as frightened by the fact he doesn’t know who can see him as he is at being unable to see himself.

 

“Hey baby,” Harry’s in front of him, must be knelt on the floor and Louis builds an image of it involuntarily; picturing the lanky figure of his boyfriend all curled up and watching him. “What can I do?”

 

Bless Harry, bless them all, everyone has been trying to make Louis happy and be there for him, support him when he so obviously needs them and yet all he wants to do is push them away; he doesn’t want to need them like this. So he just mumbles, “Nothing.”

 

“There must be something babe, something I can do, I mean I can’t get your eyes to work but I can --”

 

“Shut up Harold! SHUT UP!” Louis loses it and his voice is nothing more than a hoarse whispered yell but it does shut Harry up.

 

“Lou, please,” Harry’s begging him and his voice is laced with tears and the sadness of it, the fact that Louis’ responsible for that, makes him hurt, his heart has never felt heavier.

 

“Shut up!” It’s pathetic and weak but then again that’s exactly how Louis sees himself now so why bother pretending anything else.

 

“Lou,” Harry’s audibly swallowing back tears now.

 

“Get out Harry! Get out! Please, please just get out, leave me alone, please Harry.”

 

“Louis --”

 

“GET OUT! I don’t fucking want you here!” Louis hates himself, he really does but he’s on a roll and he can’t stop himself from adding on, “I don’t want ANY of you here, wish you’d all fuck off and LEAVE ME ALONE!” Then he just curls himself back into the little shrivel of a ball and tries to make himself so small that maybe the world will just swallow him up, or fly him away through the air like one of those dust specks that you see when the light shines through a window.

 

“I’ll never leave you Lou, not properly, I’m going to go and make you a cuppa and then we’re going to cuddle. I’m afraid I’m not even giving you a choice anymore.” Harry’s voice hasn’t been this stern since before Louis went missing and he finds himself unable to even try and argue with his younger boyfriend.

 

He just keeps his head down and hopes this will all end soon.

 

\-----------------------    

 

Harry can’t offer more than a shrug as he dejectedly enters the kitchen and the sea of faces that instantly look to him, questions burning in their irises; no doubt about Louis’ yelling.

 

He just wipes the tears that have swarmed his cheeks, scrubs at his nose with his sleeve and can’t care any less about the wet trail that is left behind in the material. He walks straight to the kettle and sets about making tea, needing desperately to have something to occupy his shaking hands.

 

“Anyone want one?” He asks and it doesn’t sound like his voice that’s coming out of him.

 

Nobody does so Harry just busies himself with making one for him and one for Lou, his mind drifting back to their favourite mugs back home in their kitchen cupboard and he wishes, as he pours the boiling water over the teabag that he was able to serve Louis his in his favourite mug.

 

Not that he’d be able to tell.

 

_Fuck._

Harry drops the cup and just watches, eyes blinking but uncaring, as the water cascades over the counter, some bouncing into his flesh and scalding his arm and hand, the china of the cup shattering and little specks leaping to the floor.

 

_Fuck._

He just stands there until someone drags him away and he doesn’t realise he’s crying until his eyes begin to hurt and he can’t tell whether he’s mumbling or shouting; he just knows that his lips feel like they’re moving. 

 

He’s hugged closely into someone’s chest as words are spoken at him and kisses are pressed into his temple and arms rub at his back and sides and someone swipes the wet curls back away from his face.

 

“H, sweetheart, you need to calm down, shh, darling, come on now, shh love, you’re alright.” It’s his mum, his dear, dear mum, who’s holding him close and he’s not felt like a little boy in so long.

 

“Mum,” He hugs her back instantly, his arms wrapping around her and he doesn’t want to be grown up anymore, he doesn’t want to be a singer or famous or anything, he just wants to be back in his childhood home with his mum and his sister and their cat.

 

He wants to be five again, when his biggest worry was what Pokémon cards he could swap with his friends, he wants to be little so that he can just be smaller than his mum and she can protect him from the shitty world.

 

“Mum,” He’s soaking her shoulder with his tears but it’s his _mum_ , she doesn’t mind and it makes him so relieved, and he just holds her tighter.

He remembers about the boy who’s huddled in a ball in the other room, all by himself and Harry jolts back out of his mum’s arms.

 

“Louis,” He explains with a voice wet with tears, “I need to make him tea.”

 

“No love, you need to have a break, sit with us, have a cuppa with us and then make him a fresh one in a bit, he won’t mind sweetie, he’ll understand, of course he will,” Anne’s voice is strong and Harry loves her for it; for being so composed when it feels as though his whole world is falling apart around him.

 

“But --”

 

“No, no more arguing love, just do this, for me, and then go back to your boy with a smile on that beautiful face of yours,” Anne gives him her own watery tearful smile and Harry can’t not smile back, so he does, it’s so small it can hardly be classed as a smile but he’s trying and the way his mum’s face lights up at the sight of it makes him happy.

 

“Here you go H,” Niall must have made the tea and when Harry twirls around to look at the bench he sees that someone has cleared up the mess he made.

 

“Thanks,” Harry doesn’t really know what to do with himself so he just places both hands around the warm cup and he savours the feeling of his skin burning slightly with the heat of the liquid.

 

Everyone’s silent once more and Harry can’t help but think of the person he knows who despises silence with a passion; the boy in the other room, the boy who can’t see anymore. Louis always has to break silence with a laugh or a shout, a twist of a nipple or a whack to the crotch.

 

“Louis would hate this,” He says softly.

 

“Louis does hate it mate,” Stan’s still here then and Harry lifts his head to look at Louis’ oldest friend across the kitchen table. “He’s not dead, and people need to stop bloody acting like he is, he’s never going to get any better if we treat him like he’s on his death bed. The fact is, he can’t see and that’s shit, it is, it’s beyond shit really. But fuck, he’s still here and we still have him and we’re acting like he’s bloody been murdered.”

 

“So what do you suggest love?” Jay asks and Harry hadn’t even realised that she’d taken up a seat on his other side, his mum and Louis’ mum surrounding him.

 

“I don’t know…” Harry’s just about to scoff until Stan continues, “But I do know that what we’re doing so far clearly isn’t helping him. He hasn’t had his eyes bathed once since he got here apart from that time when we bloody did it while he was asleep! He’s not even been told about his stick or the fact that he can get a dog to help him, he hasn’t even tried and I know, I know that he doesn’t want to try because he’s the most stubborn arse that I’ve ever met in my life.” Stan pauses and nobody calls him out for speaking about Louis in the way he has; they all agree with him. “But he hasn’t even tried, and if he doesn’t try he’s never going to get better, and he’s never going to try at this rate so yeah, maybe we need to get tough, tell him how it is and screw it if he doesn’t like it.”

 

“Yeah,” Harry offers no more; Stan’s hit the nail on the head there and he feels shit again, not that he really stopped mind. He feels shit because _he_ hasn’t tried and if he doesn’t try then Louis sure as hell isn’t going to.

 

“No, none of that, don’t be a fucking dick about this, any of you for that matter, we’ve tried it this way and it hasn’t worked so don’t go feeling all shit about it, just let’s change it. Be stricter, work together more and give him no choice; this is the only way he may ever get his eyes back and I know that he may resent us or hate us but I don’t give a monkeys if it means he can see.”

 

Everyone agrees; murmuring their approval of everything that Stan has just said and Harry has little bumps on his arm flesh from the strength of Stan’s words and the vehemence in his voice.

 

“Okay then,” Jay summarises, “We have to work together and do this, so let’s drink up and then go tell our boy exactly how it is now.”

 

And in that moment, Harry’s heart has never been so sore and yet so full; his tea warming his body that’s felt cold for too long.

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :-( I'm really sorry for taking so long to update. I don't really know what I think of this chapter, it's definitely not one of my best and I'm really sorry. Basically, one of my favourites in the whole fucking world died while I was with them and I've just been really sad and haven't felt like writing and yeah, I hope this is okay and I really appreciate people reading this and I don't normally ask for comments but I'd really appreciate it if you could let me know what you make of this. I just need to like know that someone's still enjoying this and maybe it'll give me something to focus on rather than crying all the bloody time. 
> 
> Thanks for reading as always.
> 
> This is a story that I'm determined to finish and it's for M, I miss you and I love you; always have, always will X

“Just try for us mate yeah?” Liam sighs, turning his head from Louis to look at Zayn who’s perched beside him, his expression mirroring the exasperation that Liam himself is feeling.

 

“I have tried,” Louis’ voice is low and quiet and the boy is shifting on the bed, trying to huddle his way back under his duvets and blankets.

 

“Yeah, but Tommo you need to _keep_ trying, else like, you’ll never --”

 

Liam doesn’t get to finish his sentence; instead he’s cut off when one of Louis’ fists cuffs him on his left arm.

 

“What the hell mate?” Liam groans, rubbing the sting away and blinking between Louis and Zayn.

 

“I am trying and I’d appreciate it if you’d fucking acknowledge that mate, it’s not my fucking fault me eyes are so fucking fucked.” Louis’ trying to keep his voice steady but he can hear the crackle of nearing tears and he knows the other boys can too.

 

“Lou, man, just once more yeah? Then we’re done for today?” Zayn’s shrugging at Liam and his leg is bouncing, he needs a smoke, he needs to get out of this room, but he doesn’t want to leave without Louis trying once more.

 

“ _Fine_ , but I can’t see what fucking good it’ll do,” Louis knows he’s trying to pick a fight and he is sure that the other two boys know it as well but he’s thankful that they just ignore it, even though he usually hates being ignored.

 

“Okay, thank you, so I’m gonna peel off the bandage again and all you need to do is rest your eyes, squeeze them a little a few times and then just gently open them, alright?” Liam knows that Louis would be rolling his eyes if he could; his little fingers are already wrenching a loose thread out of his blanket with a look of murderous anger on his face.

 

“You don’t have to thank me you know. It’s really got nothing to do with you, like, they’re my eyes, so like, you don’t have to concern yourself.” Louis isn’t one to admit defeat and he feels so cornered, he knows that he’s being a dick and he knows that the _boys_ know that he’s being an arse but he also knows that they understand, and that all of this is just because they’re as concerned and frustrated as he himself is.

 

Louis feels Liam’s fingers gently begin to unwind the bandage, he’s sick of having people touch him continuously and with so much care, it’s unnatural and unnerving and he wishes that none of this was happening.

 

“There we go, come on Lou,” Zayn sounds closer now and the skin that’s been exposed to the air is oddly cool compared to the rest of his face, it takes all of Louis’ willpower not to shrink back or lash out.

 

“Then you’ll leave me alone? Yeah, I just do this and you stop harassing me?” Louis knows he’s being rude and really, he should try to make his voice not so growl like but he can’t be bothered to make that effort.

 

“Yes, Tommo, for fuck’s sake we’ll leave you well alone, don’t worry,” Zayn sounds bored and pissed off and Louis almost lets slip a smirk because he has always taken great pleasure in irritating his band mates as much as possible but then he recalls his predicament and sobers instantaneously.

 

Louis wants to say something else, it’s on the very tip of his tongue but then he feels the puff of air hit his face when he hears Liam’s mumbled swearing, and he bites his lip to stop himself from talking.

 

“Okay, so just wait for a few seconds and then whenever you’re ready mate,” Liam sounds like he’s fiddling with the bandage and Louis hopes that both of his band mates are transfixed on that, and not him and his surely disgusting looking eyes.

 

Louis inhales, releasing it with a shaky exhale, before pressing his eyes tighter closed and then prying them open, he can feel the grit separating from his eyelashes and it’s only when he hears two intakes of breath that he knows his eyes must be fully open by now.

 

“And? Anything?” Liam asks and Louis can hear the worry that’s thick in his voice.

 

Louis is trying really hard to hold it together, he’s so done with crying and his eyes are fucking useless now, he can’t see anything but a black wall and he’s pretty damn sure that’s not what he’s supposed to be seeing. “N-nothing,” He digs the nails of his right hand into his left forearm, trying to press his nails into his flesh, anything to stop the sob that wants to fall from his lips. “Can’t see anything, fucking shit, I knew I wouldn’t be able to, but you fucking make me, I can’t see,” He’s yelling and angry and he knows it’s wrong to direct it all at Liam and Zayn but they’re the ones here, they’re easy targets.

 

“Hey. Hey, Lou, Tommo, it’s okay, there’s still chance, it’s always worth a try,” Liam sounds like he’s almost sat on top of Louis now; his voice is so close and there’s a hand trying to pries the finger nails out of his arm.

 

“Let go Louis,” Zayn whispers and the emotion is clear in his voice, just as the order is and Louis can’t help but obey, wincing a little at the crescent moon indents that he knows have been left behind.

 

“Can you go please?” Louis’ trying hard not to cry or fight or kick out at his friends, he can feel them sitting so close to him and it’s taunting him to know that they’re watching him go through this.

 

“No babes, we aren’t leaving you,” Zayn murmurs and Louis feels his blood start to boil.

 

“You said, you said! You fucking said!” Louis’ angry and wants nothing more than to be alone.

 

“Yeah, but we have to get your eyes sorted again and we aren’t going anywhere until that’s done,” Liam interrupts Louis and Zayn before they can continue their war of word anymore.

 

“You don’t have to _do_ anything, I thought I’d made that clear, like, it’s not my fucking fault I have shit for eyes or that you have some god awful super hero complex” Louis mutters, already admitting defeat though when he feels tiredness invade his bones and he can feel Liam moving around, no doubt preparing his bandages.

 

“Don’t think it’s a super hero complex Tommo, think it’s just being a friend, but whatever,” Niall’s voice startles Louis and he jumps slightly, connecting with Liam who lets out an irritated curse.

 

“Warn a guy next time Nialler. Nearly lost this all over Tommo’s bed here and then he’d be sorry; grumpy _and_ covered in wetness.”

 

Maybe it’s the reminder of something he vaguely remembers happening or maybe it’s the thought of his friends seeing him laying pitifully in a soaked bed but Louis’ had enough. He’s done with being babied and watched and he’s fucking sick of it.

 

He wrenches himself free and clambers, most probably, fairly ungracefully from his perch on the bed and manages to stand, albeit wobbly on his own two feet. He feels hands reaching out to steady him but he shakes them free, before planting his feet forwards, step by step. He knows he must look like a complete idiot, like some sort of newborn foal attempting his first steps but he’s desperate to move himself; to be in control.

 

 He fully ignores the voices of his band mates asking him to stop, to let them help him, and instead struggles on determinedly. He has absolutely no idea where he is, where he’s going or what the room looks like, if there are any objects in his way; for all he knows he could be balanced right on the edge of a cliff and one step away from falling down; he’d be none the wiser.

 

The next few things occur quickly, much too quick for Louis’ sleepy, stressed and angry mind, all he knows is that there is a sharp pain shooting it’s way through his right arm, a throbbing ache right in the middle of his forehead and a wetness seeping from his nose that he assumes to be blood.

 

He’s turned on to his back almost immediately by gentle yet frantic hands, his mind not really paying attention to the hushed and concerned voices around him, there are so many words and sounds filling his ears, so many different voices and footsteps from all different directions and it’s too much.

 

“Lou, you’re fine okay, just relax,” Niall must be hovering over him because Louis can feel the puffs of air from his words fall onto his face. He has no idea what he must look like, his eyes are uncovered and his face is soaking wet; he has no idea whether it’s from tears or blood or maybe it’s some mixture of the two. He knows that there’s some animalistic sort of wail crawling from his lungs and he hugs his right arm closer into his body, trying to protect it, he can feel the others trying to touch it but it hurts too much already.

 

“What’s happened? What’s going on?” Stan’s voice jolts something in Louis and suddenly he wants his childhood friend more than anything, he sobs out Stan’s name; although the sound he hears is nothing like ‘Stan.’

 

“I’ll get Jay!” Liam’s voice already sounds further away than it did before and Louis realises that maybe he’s lost track of time while he’s been laid on the floor. There’s a tissue or something dabbing gently at his face now and he tries to tilt his head away from the offending object; not getting very far though when he simply knocks the back of his head off of the floor.

 

It all becomes too much, the pain mixed with the shock of his fall, combined with the anger he’s been feeling welling up inside of him, and he already sees the blackness that fills his vision; it’s a constant to him now and he doesn’t evade the pull of unconsciousness, the last thing he remembers being the sound of his mother’s ever calming voice getting closer.

 

\-----------------------   

 

His face feels sore as fuck when he returns to consciousness and it doesn’t help that there’s a pressing weight on his chest, pushing him back into the mattress. Louis groans and tries to roll free, wishing he could see the offending object that’s pinning him down and he raises a hand to try and swat it away.

 

“Owwww,” Harry’s voice startles him and he gasps because he hadn’t even realized that it was the body of a person lying on top of him; never mind the body of his boyfriend.

 

“Harry, get off me,” Louis whines as the familiar curls tickle his neck.

 

Harry’s squirming and wriggling and just plain being a pain in the ass and Louis can’t deal with it right now.

 

“Get off get off get off get offffffff,” Louis’ tries to shake himself free of Harry but the boy just chuckles and wraps his tentacle like limbs tighter around Louis who is already trapped under an obscene amount of bed sheets.

 

“I’m comfy though, you make a good pillow Lou,” Harry’s voice is falling onto the skin of his face now, little bursts of air that makes his aching skin tingle and it suddenly feels so much better.

 

“Haz,” Louis is betrayed by his voice, he wanted to be casual and not show how much he’s affected by what’s happened to him but he knows from the moment Harry’s name fell from his lips that he’s failed. Harry just hugs him tighter and presses his lips to Louis’ cheek before settling still once more, “Hazza, I hate this, I can’t _do_ this anymore.”

 

Louis stops himself from saying anymore because he feels the choke that’s building up inside of him and he doesn’t want to cry anymore, he doesn’t want to be this fucked up anymore, he misses smiling and laughing and everything else that he _used_ to have in his life.

 

“Can’t do what love?” Harry asks, his voice quiet and silky and familiar and _home._

 

“I can’t be this, this isn’t me, I don’t … I don’t know how to do this, I keep falling over and hurting and I just want to see, Haz, I just can’t,” Louis’ lost his battle but there’s no tears this time, perhaps he’s exhausted his lifetime supply (Lord knows he wouldn’t be surprised if he had.)

 

“Hey now, you _can_ do this Louis, and you don’t have to do it alone; that’s what you keep getting wrong. We’re here for each other, not just for you, we all need each other and there’s nothing wrong with that.” Harry’s lips are grazing their way over Louis’ growing beard; he’s unable to shave and has flat out refused the offerings of help from people.

 

“I can’t Haz, I can’t!” Maybe he sounds like a petulant child and normally Louis would be embarrassed and ashamed of his whines but he doesn’t care right now.

 

“You can Louis and you know it. You’re the most bloody stubborn person I have _ever_ met and you _can_ do it, babe, you can do _anything_ you put your mind too. You just have to fucking want to!” Harry’s so close that Louis can feel his eyelashes move as the younger boy blinks against his skin.

 

“Are you saying I don’t want to? That I don’t want my eyes back? That I’m not going to get them back because I’m not putting the fucking right amount of bloody effort in?” Louis’ temper seems to be constantly flaring these days and it’s all he can do to stop himself from shoving Harry off of him and hoping that the younger boy has a painful tumble to the hard floor.

 

“No, that’s not what I’m saying and you damn well know it Lou. What I am saying though is that there’s no point in pushing any of us away; we want you to get your eyes back as much as you do but we don’t want you to think that your entire life is over just because you can’t see!”

 

“Haz, Harry, it’s not, I don’t think my life is over, I just hate it, I can’t do it,” Louis stumbles over his words as Harry’s own sink their way into his mind.

 

“You can, you can, you can,” Harry’s nipping at Louis’ skin now, sucking a kiss into Louis’ neck and any trail of coherent thought is lost in Louis’ brain. All he can focus on is the feeling of Harry, so close and so heavy and real and warm and familiar, and yet so far away because he can’t _see._

 

“Lou, I know you can’t see,” Harry’s pulled back and Louis imagines what he must look like, pretty shades of milk and cream skin, eyes brighter than dewy blades of the greenest grass caught in the sun, lips that are pink and full and dimples that Louis wishes he could crawl into.

 

“Damn observant you aren’t you Haz,” Louis replies snarkily, his mood already improving thanks to Harry’s presence.

 

Harry just ignores Louis and continues what he was going to say before Louis interrupted and as he speaks Louis imagines what he must look like; he remembers the way his lips move as he speaks, sounds that move like treacle dripping from him, “I know you can’t see, but you can feel, and I think we need to just keep going; keep trying and you have to _try_ Lou.”

 

Harry nips at his skin again and doesn’t say anymore; he’s obviously said everything he needs to and he wants to give Louis time to process it. It’s silent now, only little puffs of their breath as they breathe each other in, Louis moans when he feels Harry soothe a particularly sharp nip with his tongue.

 

“There,” Harry sounds pleased with himself and Louis can’t help but smile.

 

“And what have you done?” Louis asks, his mood improved somewhat by the familiarity of what he’s feeling.

 

“Marked myself into your lovely skin dear Lou, your turn!” Harry sounds pleased and happy and Louis wants to see his eyes sparkle and his lips pull upwards but he can’t. He stops himself from thinking like that anymore though before it depresses him once more.

 

“What?” Louis asks, Harry’s already shifting around and he isn’t sure what’s happening until he feels long fingers squish his lips and cut off anymore words, then there’s skin, delicious skin that smells of crisp air and shampoo and banana.

 

“I said, it’s you turn, chop chop!” Harry’s voice has moved and Louis can feel his lips moving as he speaks somewhere against his forehead, so Louis surmises that the boy has moved himself and Louis must be pressed into his neck or collarbones. He suddenly understands and tilts his face upwards a litte, parting his lips and reaching out. Just as he thought there is warm skin there and he licks at it before nipping it between his teeth. He sucks it into his mouth, pulling away every few seconds to take in the happy sighs of Harry above him.

 

Louis feels himself growing hard under the covers and he feels Harry’s own dick pressing into his tummy. Their legs are laid against each other; separated by the bed covers and Louis moans as he moves his arms to wrap them around Harry’s neck and back so that he can pull his boy closer.

 

Then Harry’s moving and it must have just been a few moments but Louis feels as though he has lost track of any sense of time that he’d had and his mind is just full of HarryHarryHarry.

 

“I’m here babe,” Harry is moving and Louis realises that he’s been chanting out his boyfriend’s name.

 

“Good,” Louis breathes and instantly there’s lips upon his, soft, full, familiar lips and they move with his and they’re kissing and it doesn’t matter for the moment that Louis can’t see because he’d have his eyes closed anyway. Harry never fails to overwhelm him and he knows the boy that’s settled on top of him and it’s enough for the moment; it may not be eyes, it may not be sight but it’s enough and maybe, with Harry by his side, being blind might not be the end.

 

They kiss leisurely, bodies pressed alongside each other and then Harry’s rolling off of him, Louis lets a little whine slip passed his lips when the familiar body of warmth leaves him but then there’s those lips again, shushing him and turning him and then they’re lying; must be facing each other but it doesn’t matter. It wouldn’t even matter if they were dangling upside down from the ceiling; all that matters is that his lips and tongue are dancing with Harry’s and it’s perfect and Louis doesn’t even think about his eyes anymore. They don’t’ matter; so long as his world is one that’s full of HarryHarryHarry then maybe he can get through this.

 

It’s the strong hand that curls its way around his back and tugs him closer towards Harry that makes him moan; low and long as their groins jut together, still separated by the stupid bed sheets.

 

“Lou, need you, Louis, so good, need you,” Harry’s stopped kissing him to breathe in air and whisper the pleas into Louis’ ear before dotting over it with kisses.

 

“Yes, Haz, want you, please,” Louis responds and then he’s rewarded with a cool breeze of air as the covers are moved and there’s a hand creeping down inside of his boxers.

 

Harry wraps his hand around Louis’ dick and rubs at the hardening flesh, Louis moans as he feels the precome that’s already spilling from the slit of his cock rub down, Harry’s hands working over him, thumb running around the head and Louis moans, eyes pressed tightly shut; he’s not even trying to see. All that he’s focused on is the feeling of Harry upon him; touching him and the orgasm is building quickly; it’s like a fire burning inside of him, growing and growing with flames licking heat at his insides. His lips part and fall open as he cums, shooting into Harry’s eager and waiting hand and his body jerks as Harry continues to stroke him through the aftershocks.

 

When Louis returns to his senses he feels Harry’s mouth sucking on the skin of his neck once more.

 

“Haz, I want, you, your turn,” Louis is adamant that he’s going to return the favour; after all he can still feel Harry hard and pressed against him.

 

“Yea, Lou, please,” Harry is guiding Louis now, he’s found his hand where it’s been laid loosely at Louis’ side and he’s directing it down Harry’s body. Louis stops though, makes his arm muscles taught and he knows that Harry is looking at him confused and unsure. Louis reassures him with what he hopes looks like a smirk, he knows all of his emotion faces but it’s been so long since he last saw a smile or a frown or a grimace or a smirk that he feels as though the memory and the ability to construct one upon his own face has dwindled.

 

He surges forward, seeking out Harry with his mouth and he’s rewarded by the sharp unstubbled jaw that he remembers so fondly; moves his lips against it and kisses into it whilst his hand runs down the body he misses seeing so much. Instead of letting his eyes drink in the sight of his boyfriend, flushed and hard and panting against him, Louis lets his mouth and ears make and catch the moans of pleasure and lets his hand move, stroking along his skin until he finally reaches Harry’s hard cock. It doesn’t take long, the boy is pressing further and further into his grip and his balls feel heavy and full when they touch against Louis’ hand and they’re no longer kissing each other, they’re just breathing and enjoying and living and Harry’s so familiar and full and everything that Louis needs right now, it’s all within his reach.

 

Harry comes with a stuttered and shaky intake of breath and Louis clenches his eyes shut tighter; hoping that the conscious decision to have his eyes shut overrides the overwhelmingly depressing feeling of not being able to see; not being able to watch his boy fall apart.

 

“See what we can do with our eyes shut? They don’t matter all that much babe, just, like, they’re an added extra but everything we need, everything we want and all that we have, it’s here and we don’t need eyes to see it.” Harry’s recovered now and the words he whispers etch and mark their way into the very being of Louis; they fill him with ink that’s thick of love, words with the power of pumping blood digging into him and it’s enough to make him exhale a giggle and wrap himself closer towards Harry.

 

“Doesn’t mean I’m happy to not be able to see,” Louis whispers quietly; hoping that the quieter he speaks the quicker the words will be forgotten.

 

“Didn’t say you were, and I believe you’ll see again, when we go home in a week or two we’re going to go to the best damn Doctor we can. Apparently there’s some guy who’s got experience of a case like yours and we can ask him to help us.”

 

Louis’ heart swells when the words register, every time someone’s it before it hadn’t completely resonated with him but now it does, it may just be because of the fact that for once his mind isn’t focused on anything else; but he realises that people aren’t just acknowledging his lack of eyesight as _his_ problem. It’s _their_ problem, something that affects them all because they’re a family and they’re brothers and they loves each other and it isn’t just Louis by himself; it may very well be Louis’ eyes but he’s one of them and when one of them is hurt they’re all hurt and in that instant of realization Louis has never felt fonder.

 

He’s just about to tell Harry that, just about to shout his heart out about how much he loves them and how loved he feels when there’s a cry, a crash and a screamed curse from somewhere in the house. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck. 
> 
> I'm so sorry, I hate this chapter a little but I seriously can't look at it anymore. I'm sorry for taking so long to update and I completely understand if some people have totally grown bored/given up on this story. 
> 
> I didn't feel like writing for a while and then I started this chapter and got really into it and planned out the rest of the story, and then one of my relatives was killed in a hit and run and it kinda fucked me up. Like, writing lost its importance. 
> 
> The way that I've planned this story out means there'll most likely be 20 chaps inc. an epilogue. But I am trying to write a christmas fic that's more lighthearted and I don't have a lot of time to write as it is but I really want to have that written in time for Christmas so the next chap for this story may not be for a while. 
> 
> I'm really, really sorry. I feel like shit because I know what it's like to wait on a fic being updated and then for it to take a while. Not that I think anyone is waiting on this fic. 
> 
> This is a stupidly long note and ugh, I'm sorry. 
> 
> Thanks for reading if you do, it means a lot to me.

“Just make sure they don’t get in again! I don’t want Louis in that situation, I mean, like, what the fuck are security doing letting fans get passed them?” Harry’s angry and Louis can _hear_ the thunder in his voice despite Harry being in a completely different room.

 

There’s a low and murmured reply that to Louis’ ears sounds like a mixture of apologetic and regretful.

 

“It can’t happen again.” Harry scolds and then a few minutes later Louis senses that he’s returned to him.

 

Nevertheless, he can’t help the way he flinches when someone touches his arm despite being almost certain that it is Harry.

 

“Oh, Lou, it’s just me babe.” Harry kisses his temple and Louis relaxes slightly, unclenching his useless eyes underneath their bandage.

 

“Wha’ happened?”

 

“A fan got in the grounds and was peering through the window just as mum was making tea, she burnt herself on some of the water and broke a cup. Can’t believe security didn’t spot the girl!”

 

“Is your mum okay?” Louis asks, trying to hide his wince when Harry’s grip on his arm tightens.

 

“Yeah, a little burnt but not too bad and Paul and Jay are with her now, but like, the fact that someone got in here just makes me so fucking angry, you know? Like, I don’t understand why a fan would even try, they all know what’s been going on and --”

 

“Hey, shh, it’s okay babe, as long as your mum’s okay then it’s alright, they got the fan out now right?” Louis asks, guessing with his hand where Harry’s head is and allowing his fingers to stroke their way through his curls to try and relax the boy.

 

“Yeah, they did but that isn’t the point Lou, the fact that someone got in is just too much.”

 

“Nobody got hurt though…”

 

“No, Lou, there’s no reasoning that will make it okay! The girl got in the _house_ , well, in the garden, and it’s not fair that people are still bugging us! They know what’s happened and they can’t honestly think that it’s acceptable to be doing shit like that.”

 

“I know, I know,” Louis curls his arm around Harry’s head and thumbs at his cheek gently. “I know it’s far from okay, but I don’t want you getting this worked up over it, it’s sorted now and I’m sure Paul’s going to make sure that it doesn’t happen again… Wait, what do the fans know about everything?” Louis can’t help the way that his voice shakes a little at the end and he finds himself biting his lip to stop himself from letting out a whimper at the thought of the public knowing what happened to him.  He halts the movement of his thumb as he thinks about the rest of the world; he hadn’t really registered that something must have been said to the public over his disappearance and subsequent reappearance. He knows that there’ll have been many news reports about his whereabouts and state of health.

 

“Lou,” Harry’s taken a hold of his frozen thumb now, Louis can picture it being held in Harry’s stupidly giant hand and he chokes out a sob unexpectedly. “Oh Lou.”

 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m upset, always am these days, so sick of it!” Louis no longer cares about the shakiness of his voice but he mentally berates himself for being so weak.

 

“Love, they know a little bit about what happened, I haven’t really read or heard much of anything’s that’s been said since we came to stay here but like, I dunno if they’ve found anything out… You know what the fans are like. I don’t think anything has been confirmed though, apart from you being found alive, the rest will just be them making guesses.”

 

“They must all know more than that by now, we can never keep anything secret!” The bitterness has crept into Louis’ voice by now but the hand that’s cradling his thumb and the body that’s hugging close to his does help to calm him down.

 

“Hey, we can too! We’ve kept us a secret for three whole years now,” Harry’s voice is just a whisper in Louis’ ear now but it sounds so loud.

 

“Not by choice,” Louis knows he’s sulking and taking it out on Harry when he’s the least deserving out of everybody in the whole world, but he can’t help it, he’s full of bitterness and frustration and he’s angry, angry at himself, angry at management, angry at the damn world.

 

“I know but still, suppose as shitty as that is, it does show that we _can_ keep some things secret,” Louis knows that those words have been said with a Harry smile, he can sense it and it makes him so pleased that he grins a little.

 

He’s rewarded for his efforts by lips on his collarbone and upon instinct he tilts his head to the side, baring more of his neck.  Harry spends the next few minutes sucking a kiss into Louis’ skin but he removes himself too soon for Louis’ liking and he lets out a short whine as Harry pulls back.

 

“Sorry babe,” Harry’s voice is apologetic as he runs what he thinks is a soothing hand down Louis’ chest before letting it stop just below Louis’ belly button.

 

“Ugh,” Louis doesn’t do anything to mask his anger at Harry, “I was enjoying that!”

 

“I need to go sort this out!” Harry ignores Louis’ attempted protests and instead just pecks Louis’ slightly flushed cheek before leaving him.

 

“Fucks sake,” Louis mutters to himself, hoping that Harry will be back soon so they can resume where he left off.

 

“Alright Tommo?” Liam’s voice startles Louis and he’s annoyed when he yelps quietly.

 

“Yeah, I guess,” Louis hopes that Liam isn’t able to see the bulge that he’s sure has hardened in his sweatpants.

 

“Mate, that’s cool if you are but I wouldn’t be surprised if you weren’t, none of us would be,” Liam’s closer now and the cushion Louis’ on moves indicating the boy has sat himself down.

 

“You asked me a question and I answered, sorry if that’s no good for you Payno,” Louis tries not to let his voice show too much of the anger that he’s feeling.

 

“Fair point, sorry, it’s just me and the boys we wanna help you and like it’s so shit not being able to make you laugh properly and like we were thinking of ideas we could do to get you actually _doing_ something ‘cause to be fair this isn’t the most exciting life.”

 

Louis can’t hold back his snort at those words and he knows that Liam’s realised he isn’t the most eloquent of people as he laughs shortly, “Yeah, I’m not that good at this am I?”

 

“So, you got any actual ideas? Or did you just make the trip here to tell me you thought about it.”

 

“Actually we do indeed! Come on Tommo, up and at them!” Liam’s strong enough to pull Louis upright and carry him around bridal style (Lord knows he’s put Louis through torture like that plenty of times before,) so when he feels the muscled arm tugging on his own and forcing him to stand up he just goes with it.

 

“Pray tell me Leeyuumm, where are we going and what is the plan?” Louis’ feeling a lot cheerier now, he’s lost the tell tale sting of tears and he’s just clinging to the happy feeling, hoping that it will last for longer than a few minutes for a change.

 

“We, well, actually we’re just going somewhere to do something so shush now.”

 

Liam’s holding Louis a little too carefully with a firm arm wrapped around the slighter boy’s waist but instead of snapping at him to stop babying him, he just tries to make his voice “Whisking me away somewhere special huh?”  

 

“Of course! Only the best for you Lou!” Liam’s voice sounds so giddy and excited that it would be hard for Louis to fight the smile that’s already growing on his face.

 

They walk in silence after that and Louis doesn’t question anything anymore, instead he just concentrates on walking; the motion of putting one foot in front of the other while trying to take in his surroundings. He thinks that his ears are working so much more now than they ever used to before because he can hear so much clearer now!

 

“Here he is!” The sound of Stan’s voice makes Louis’ smile even wider, he hasn’t really appreciated that his childhood friend flew out to help find him but maybe it’s not too late to start now.

 

“Are you ready Lou?” Niall’s voice pipes up suddenly from right beside Louis and he startled so much that his instinctive reflexes cause him to hit out and there’s a low pained groan that follows; the sound of which doesn’t half amuse Louis.

 

“What the fuck?” Niall whimpers and his voice is a little higher now and it sounds further away than it was before.

 

“Oh sorry, did I startle you Ni?” Louis grins but when he hears Niall’s voice mutter about how Louis is going to be the reason why he’ll never have children, it dawns on him that he hit Niall rather hard in his crotch and he bursts out laughing.

 

He laughs and he laughs, and he laughs even more when he hears Niall cursing him for both hitting him _and_ laughing, and he laughs some more when the others join in. He only stops when his tummy has begun to ache and the amusement has worn off.

 

“Well, what’s going on here? It all seems very cheery!” Louis automatically turns his body in the direction of Harry’s voice but he obviously doesn’t see the shock that forms on everyone’s face at the action.

 

Harry bites his lip and he knows that Louis might snap at him but he can’t help the mile wide smile that makes it way on to his face and he spares a moment to grin at everyone else; all of whom are mirroring him straight back.

 

Unnoticing of the silence Louis manages to splutter out a quick, “Niall’s just been contemplating fatherhood,” before losing himself to giggles once more.

 

“Uh, no! I think you’ll find _your_ shithead of a boyfriend just fucking punched me in my fucking balls and he _still_ appears to find it hilarious!” Niall’s voice is loud and his accent is strong but there’s fondness seeping into his words that’s clear to everyone that’s present.

 

“It does seem to be quite funny,” Harry laughs when Niall alters the direction of his death glare from Louis to Harry.

 

“Boys, are you ready?” Zayn sounds bored and Louis’ pretty sure that if he could see the boy he would look bored as well but he knows Zayn, he knows him, knows how he is, and he knows that the kid has the ability of not only sounding and looking bored when in fact he’s actually interested.

 

“Yes! Come on and tell me all about this plan of yours, Li’s made it sound wonderful so far,” Louis’ sarcastic but the grin’s still plastered there and believe it or not he’s genuinely intrigued as to what they have planned; hoping that it’ll help to break the monotony that has become his life.

 

“Well it may be lame and like it’s fine if you don’t want to but we were thinking that we could play a game and have some fun and have a laugh and…” Liam begins to explain and the more he talks, the more Louis feels his heart swell with love for his friends.

 

\-----------------------   

 

Barely an hour later and the boys have collapsed in a heap on the floor, each covered in a light sweat and panting from laughter.

 

“Hide and seek in the dark? Really? That’s the best you came up with?” Louis knows he’s grinning and he thinks that if it weren’t for the sodding bandages covering his eyes they’d be crinkled with his smile.

 

“Heyyyyy,” Harry is collapsed half on top of Louis and the presence and weight of him helps to keep him grounded in the moment.

 

“Don’t lie Tommo, you _loved_ that,” Stan is nearby and Louis finds himself automatically turning his head to seek out his friend.

 

Someone’s hand finds its way into his hair with the movement and he immediately nudges further into it.

 

“Yeah, and we turned the lights off to make it fair! Don’t say we never do anything for you Lou,” Zayn’s voice is quiet but it’s easily heard in the now calm room.

 

“To be fair though had to take your word for it didn’t I… ‘Snot like I can easily check that you have in fact turned all the lights off…”

 

“None of that! Hey, you enjoyed it didn’t you? Because we all did, none of us have laughed that much in ages,” Niall sounds unsure and Louis wishes he could take his words back, as truthful as they were he never actually meant to say them aloud because he _does_ appreciate that the boys thought of this for him.

 

“Yeah,” Louis has to try real hard to stop his voice from wavering from the overwhelming emotion that suddenly consumes him, “Yeah I did, I really did… Look, I, we all know I’m not one for talking about stuff like this and I know I can be a pain in the arse, and like stubborn and snappy and annoying, but like, thank you. This is so shit, like, my eyes, or non-existent eyes,” Maybe his voice does crack there but when he feels the bodies press into him and wrap him up tighter in their arms he takes a shuddering breath and soldiers on. “Like, maybe I’ll get them back and maybe I won’t but like, you boys are here and I’m here and just, thank you for being here.”

 

It’s not eloquent and it would never win any awards for speech of the year but to each of the boys who have just spent the last hour running into the sides of sofas and walls and tumbling over one another, it’s like music to their ears.

 

“Don’t be daft Lou, you’d do the same for us if you ever have to, what’s a couple of self induced bruises between friends. I mean, if you have to live in the dark for a while then we should get used to it too.”

 

“Not for a while --”

 

“Yes, for a while and no more arguing that please,” Harry’s voice is firm and so are the fingers tugging his hair which silence the retort on Louis’ lips.

 

“Hey, Harry, did you erm, sort that thing out before?”

 

“Subtle Niall,” Louis grins when there’s a scoff from somewhere on his right hand side.

 

“I did actually,” The grin in Harry’s voice is positively audible and something about the tone of his voice has Louis’ ears perking up.

 

“What, what thing is this Harold?” Louis turns his head and ignores the soft groan when he ends up bashing his forehead softly into someone else’s.

 

“Well, me and the others were talking when you were asleep before and we all decided that it was maybe time to be thinking about going home and then when that girl got in earlier I decided that it’s something we should seriously think about doing…. So I spoke with mum and Jay and Paul and everyone else and we all agreed that we could go home… Only if you want to though…”

 

“Home?” Louis’ hands are settled on his tummy now, his fingers twiddling and fidgeting and he doesn’t know what he feels at the thought of going home, he doesn’t know _why_ he doesn’t feel excited or happy.

 

“Only if you want, only if you want to love,” Harry whispers right into his ear and Louis hadn’t even heard him move; his mind just blanked out with the idea of home filling it like white noise on an old television set.

 

“Yeah, totally up to you Lou,” Zayn sounds higher up than he did before and it’s just a little too much.

 

Louis knows his hands are shaking and he knows it’s ridiculous to feel like _this_ at just the mere thought of returning home but so much has happened and it’s been so long and he didn’t think he’d ever get to go home at one point.

 

He spills the words out without even realizing, “Didn’t think I’d ever go home again.”

 

“Fuck” Stan sounds like he’s above Louis now too and it’s unsettling to think that all of these people, even if they are some of his favourite people in the whole world, are staring over him and looking down upon him and maybe there’s pity or sympathy or sadness in their eyes but he doesn’t know because he can’t _see_.

 

“Can we, can you please, like closeyoureyes.” Louis mumbles the words quickly, half hoping that they’ll be heard and the action completed whilst also hoping that the words magically evaporate into the air and remain unheard.

 

“Close our eyes?” Harry in his typical style drags out the words and they sound so much more ridiculous to Louis’ ears than they did when they first slipped from his mouth.

 

There’s no going back now though and he thinks that he should just get it over and done with as fast as possible. “Yeah, it’s, it’s just, it’s just you lot can see me and I can’t see you and it’s like, I dunno, unsettling?”

 

Within seconds everyone murmurs a mixture of apologies and promises that they’ll close their eyes; Louis takes their word for it because really, when has he ever had reason to not believe something these boys said.

 

“So, home, for real?” Louis’ hands are still in his lap, there’s a nick of skin catching next to his index finger and he tugs at it with his right hand.

 

“If you want, ‘sup to you Louis,” Niall murmurs and Louis really, _really_ wishes he knew for sure whether or not their eyes were all closed.

 

“I think, I think yeah, I want to go home, I really, really do.” Louis manages to spit the words out before the emotion overwhelms him, it’s finally sinking in that he _gets to go home_.

 

There’s a sob and his fists tighten themselves and he shakes and instantly he’s engulfed in bodies and hugging arms and whispered promises that they’re going home.

 

\-----------------------   

 

The police come by as they’re packing up their belongings from the house ready to start their journey home. The house is full of noise, there’s doors being opened and closed in all directions, voices sounding from around the house; some familiar and the others not so, it’s enough to make Louis grit his teeth and sigh a huff of frustrated breath from his nose.  He tries his best to concentrate on what is being said to him by the officers but it’s just so frustratingly difficult. One of the main things he’s found since having been deprived of his eyesight is that his other senses have gone into overdrive and his ears seem so much more alert picking up sounds that he had never noticed before.

 

He tries his best to focus on the sounds that his ears are picking up as the officers tell him that they’ve had no luck so far in finding the people responsible for his ordeal. He finds it very difficult to care as they tell him that they’re actively working to restore his funds, they’ve been able to find out that his money was sent to an account under what is believed to be a falsified name but until they know more there is not a lot they can do.

 

Louis doesn’t say a lot and maybe that’s rude and ignorant but Harry and his mum are there and they talk a lot and they seem to be handling it all well; they seem to have a much better idea of what’s being done than Louis does; probably helped by the fact that they have their eyesight to look at whatever paperwork the police are shuffling around. All Louis knows is that the sound of paper being wafted around and the small breezes it creates in the air are really irritating and he finds himself desperately seeking out that peeling bit of skin on his fingertip that he had abandoned earlier.

 

Consumed and lost in his own thoughts he doesn’t even notice that the room’s gone quiet until someone is addressing him. It’s only when he hears Harry bidding the officers goodbye and thanking them for their help overly loud as if purely for his benefit that Louis realises he’s been daydreaming.  He quickly swallows and wipes his hand on his leg before offering it up timidly; scared that someone’s not even in the vicinity to shake it.

 

His worries are ceased quickly however when someone takes his hand and shakes it firmly, and he murmurs his thanks before letting his hand go slack and hoping the officer will do the same.

 

Harry shows them out, his footsteps fading away with his voice as they walk from the room.

 

“Let’s get you home now love,” Jay’s approached him silently and wrapped him in one of her best hugs and for a few minutes, Louis lets himself be that little boy again, lets his mum murmur words into his ear, promises that only a mother can make to her child and if he sobs a little while whispering the word **home** then he doesn’t think his mother would hold it against him. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seriously can not thank you all enough, I love each and every one of you for coming back and continuing to read. Sorry I've been so rubbish at replying to comments; I'm gonna try and work on that but I greatly appreciate them, and you, for reading and telling me what you think. 
> 
> This will be the last update for the year as I'm spending the next few weeks with my family. 
> 
> I hope December's good to you and you have a merry christmas and a very happy new year :) xx

The plane journey home seems to go faster than any flight Louis has ever been on before. The pilot announces that seatbelts need to be put on as they’re beginning to land and Louis finds his knee bobbing up and down faster than ever. 

 

“You okay there Lou? Lou? Louis?”

 

“Huh?” Louis starts and he hears someone mutter a curse as something clatters to the floor.

 

There’s more hushed talking but Louis doesn’t pay attention to trying to decipher the words; he’s simply consumed by the thought of what’s to come.

 

“Louis, love,” Harry’s beside him, running a hand through his hair but it doesn’t do anything to calm him.

 

“Harry, make sure you both have your seatbelts on please, we’ll worry about getting all your stuff,” Paul is one of the voices that Louis can hear in the muttered chatter. “You and the boys just need to get yourselves into the cars and we’ll sort the rest.”

 

“Okay, thanks, hear that Lou? Got it all sorted so we can go straight home,” Harry’s still running his fingers through Louis’ hair and it’s still not comforting.

 

            There’s a short sad sigh before Louis feels hands twisting their way in to his lap, fumbling around the belt that’s been hanging loose around his waist, a tell tale click following and Louis knows he’s buckled in.

 

            “Landing soon now babe, nearly ho --”

 

            “Yes, thank you, I heard, I’m blind, not fucking _deaf_ ,” Louis snaps and he doesn’t even know when this feeling of intense anger washed over him and he doesn’t think he’d be able to shake it off even if he wanted to.

 

            Louis lets his thoughts drift off, and he _knows_ that the background hum has lessened slightly and at the back of his mind he acknowledges that his outburst was probably the cause for that. He thinks he would find it hard to care if he could even summon the energy to actually give a damn in the first place. Instead he just tries his best to not let his mind wander to the fact that he’s nearly home and he’s not going to see _any_ of it.  

 

            The wheels touch down and there’s a jerk and he is brought back to reality. Someone’s unclicking his seatbelt and pulling him upright but he wriggles them off harshly, ignoring the sound of Harry sighing sadly once again.

 

            “Right, boys! As per, there’s paps out and some fans, got some cars coming to meet us now; so all you have to do is get from the steps to the vans. Don’t worry about luggage, we’re gonna sort it all out and bring it over to yous.” Paul sounds as though he’s close to Louis and now that he’s actually paying attention he can sense the air rippling; as if there’s a swarm breathing around him.

            “Well then, let’s do this, come on lads,” Liam is on Louis’ left, taking a hold of his arm and pulling him forward before Louis has time to catch himself and dig his heels in.

 

            It’s different when he’s exiting the plane, the cool air hits him and he has absolutely no idea what time it is but he _thinks_ it’s evening. He doesn’t know _why_ it feels like evening but it does and he doesn’t have the energy or desire to ponder the matter any further. It’s the sound that hits him next, there was a delay; maybe two or three long-lived seconds wherein all he felt was the cool waves of air. But now, now there’s a roar full of screams and clicks and chanted names and stomping feet and rattling railings.

 

            There’s Liam pulling him gently down the steps and someone else, most likely Harry, pressed up reassuringly against his back to guide him to the cars. He wants to shrug them off, he wants to be angry and he wants to shout and scream and tell everything to _shut the hell up_ because it’s all too loud and too much and too close. If he had to describe it he would use the word **busy**.

 

            He hears his name among the sounds and once he recognizes it he realises that the chants are just filled with the calls of his name. He wants to yell back, he wants to kick them to the floor and wrench the cameras he knows to be there out of their hands.

 

            He’s being bundled into the car next, Liam pulling him in as Harry guides him the step up to clamber out of the crowd’s sight. Within moments the van is moving, picking up speed and the sounds of the crowd drifts away with silence taking its place.

 

            He ignores everyone and everything in the car, he doesn’t give a flying fuck when he hears each of the boys have a go at saying his name and vying for his attention, instead he just thinks of home, ignoring the sting of his eyes when he thinks about not _seeing_ of it. He thinks of finally crawling under his own duvet, laying his head on his own pillow, and he doesn’t even notice when the word _home_ spills from his lips. It’s quiet and small in sound, spoken into the window that’s cold against his forehead.

 

            “Nearly there love,” Harry’s lips press into his hoody covered shoulder, lingering a little before moving away.

 

            He doesn’t offer any reply, he doesn’t speak anymore at all, not while they’re in the van, not when they’re entering the gated enclosure of their house, not when he’s being pulled from the car, and not even when he’s being tugged towards the front door.

 

            The first thing he wants to do when he walks through his front door is go to bed; the only problem being that he has no idea where to start walking. It’s so irritating because this is his _home_ , and he _knows_ where his and Harry’s bedroom is but not being able to see has left him royally confused. He’s conscious that there the boys are watching him though and he doesn’t want their attention; he doesn’t want them to do anything for him… He doesn’t want nor need their help.  To disguise his discomfort he crouches down and begins to try and rid himself of the vans on his feet; Liam’s homemade bandage on his wrist getting in the way slightly and he winces as it tinges with an aching pain.

 

“Here, let me,” Liam must have crouched down too and there’s the sound of the others walking away; maybe having realised they were crowding around him a little much.

 

“ _No_! It’s fine,” Louis snaps and decides that there’s no point in trying to undo the mess of a knot as it’s not like he’ll be able to do them up again when he puts them back on. So he toes them off and kicks them slightly with a frustrated and angry jerk of his foot, taking great pleasure when he hears Liam’s hurried movement to dodge the flying shoes.

 

“Oh-kaaay,” Liam must know he’s walking a fine line; they all are. Louis’ being temperamental; has been for months now and it must be difficult for them to try and predict his mood when Louis himself doesn’t even know what he’s feeling.

 

“There’s tea made!” Harry calls from the kitchen and the sound of his voice, the familiarity of the situation suddenly settles in and instantly Louis just feels overwhelming happiness.

 

He doesn’t waste another second; just fixes a wide grin on his face and bats out weakly in the direction that he hopes Liam is; “Come on then Payno! Lead the way, there’s a good lad.”

 

\----------------------- 

 

Niall’s sipping at his beer when Liam enters with a ridiculously happy looking Louis slung around him for guidance.  It’s an unfamiliar sight but a very, very welcome one. He can’t help but grin around the neck of his bottle.

 

Louis feels his way for the barstool that he must sense is near to him and all but flings his body on to it. His hands skitter too quickly across the island surface until they knock into a cup and spill the hot liquid in a clatter of china.

           

Niall chokes on his mouthful of beer and leaps up, his mind not able to think about what he should do first. By the time his brain has caught up on the situation Liam is already tugging a giggling Louis over to the sink and holding his right hand hostage under the cold tap. Zayn’s helping Harry clean up the spilt tea and Niall thinks the best course of action is to just make another cup.

 

A few minutes later, when Niall has a new brew poured and Harry and Zayn have cleaned up the spilt tea, Louis’ still giggling. Little sounds falling from his mouth and he’s moving so much with the body shaking laughs that Liam’s physically having to force his hand to stay under the flow of the water. His body though is turned to face the other boys and Niall knows that his expression mirrors their confused and concerned ones.

Niall can’t bear it any longer and he strides across the room until he reaches the fridge freezer. He pulls open the door and rustles around until he can find an ice pack. Harry’s right behind him when he does, with a tea towel at the ready, which Niall takes with a quiet _thanks_.

 

Liam takes it straight from him and after a few extra seconds pulls Louis’ hand away from the tap to immediately press it into the ice wrap.  The action seems to sober Louis up and his giggles die in his throat.

 

He’s so much calmer this time around when Liam helps him back on to his stool. He takes the handle of the cup that’s offered to him with only the slightest hesitation by Zayn. While he drinks, sipping languidly at the liquid, Niall flicks his eyes between him and the others who are all watching too.

 

“Finished!” Louis exclaims with a grin and Niall wishes that it would stay like this; a happy Lou is the best type of Lou and it’s too bloody difficult to keep up with the ever-changing mood swings.

 

“You hungry babe? What about you boys?” Harry asks, moving forward to slide a hand down Louis’ back; all of them trying to ignore the quick flinch.

 

“No thanks, I do want a shower though; you gonna join me Harold?”

 

“Um, I’d love to Lou but maybe later?” Harry continues to stroke at his back and it’s so natural for Niall and the others to see but it never stops making him smile.

 

“But I want one _now_ ” Louis whines, “And I, I, I can’t, I don’t know where it is.”

 

In that instant, his mood has changed.  Niall can almost sense it in the air, it’s tense and quiet and they’re all feeling pretty damn exhausted from the past few months and the flight home along with the time change has seemingly worn their patience thin.

 

“Well, maybe a bath’s better Lou, I can run you one and you can soak while I start on our unpacking?”

 

“Don’t want a bath,” Louis whines, “Want a shower.”

 

“Come on Lou, a bath will be nicer anyway; you can have all the bubbles you want huh?”

 

“ _I’m not some fucking kid Harry_!” Louis loses his temper and spits venom with his words. The boys all recoil; shocked to see so much sound and anger falling from their friend’s lips over something that is so trivial.

 

“I never said you were,” Niall watches Harry carefully, attention fully off Louis for once and he sees the tears that creep their way into the green eyes. He’s silent, just like Zayn and Liam, the three just watching and waiting to see what their two friends say or do next. Harry’s speaks softly, voice thick with emotion, “I never said that and you _know_ I never would.”

 

“But you thought it, hell, you think it! I know you do! I know all of the shitty thoughts you think of me, you and everyone else with it and _fuck_! All I want is a shitty fucking shower.” Louis’ shoulders sag as if they weight of the whole world rests upon them.

 

“Harry, why don’t you and Lou go take that shower and us boys will sort your stuff out?” Niall wonders why none of them thought of it before; they could have saved this whole situation.

 

Liam and Zayn murmur their agreement and Harry spares a moment to look at the three of them; as if to make sure that they really are okay with doing their unpacking. _The whole situation is ludicrous_ Niall thinks.

 

\----------------------- 

 

Harry pulls his clothes off quickly, the whole time keeping his eyes focused upon Louis’ huddled and quiet form, being mindful not to leave them in a heap on the floor incase Louis should trip over them. Once he’s naked he stays perfectly still for an extra minute or two, just looking at his boy who’s perched in wait on the toilet.

 

“Come on then Lou, time for our shower,” Louis’ head perks up at the sudden sound of his voice and he cocks his head in Harry’s direction.

 

“Finally! There was me thinking you’d left me Harold,” Louis exclaims and hops to his feet.

 

Harry feels something heavy weighing down his heart, he closes the distance between them in two long strides and Louis’ in his arms, body pressed tight against him. Perfect in every way.

 

“I would _never ever_ leave you Louis, you hear me? I have never and _will never_ leave you. You need to know that and you need to remember that and damn it!” Harry breaks off to run a frustrated hand through his unruly hair that’s most definitely seen better days. He turns his head to the side, needing a moment to look away and gather himself before turning back to look at the bandage that stands in the way of their eyes connecting. “I would never leave you Lou, God, I love you. I always have, ever since you asked me to sign you that damn autograph. I will always love you,” His voice is thick with tears at this point but it doesn’t matter; none of it matters as long as this boy knows how much he’s loved.

 

“You loved that,” Louis remarks, far more upbeat than a few moments ago.

 

“Maybe a little,” Harry coughs out a wet laugh before winding his fingers through Louis’ hair.

 

“You, you mean that H? ‘Bout loving me?”

 

“Of course Lou. I’ll never stop telling you that I love you, but you have _got_ to believe it sometime.” Harry tucks Louis’ head into his neck and he’s stood, naked as the day he was born, and it’s a little bit cold so he thinks he’ll just have one more second before making them get in the hot shower.

 

That is until he feels a little tickle of warmth on his collarbone, along with some whisper words that are so soft and raspy it takes a moment for him to work them out, “I’ll never leave you again.”

 

“You promise?” Harry holds him tight, still afraid despite the promise that Louis will vanish right from his grasp.

 

“Promise” Louis presses an open mouthed kiss to his chest then and Harry looks down, it’s a little awkward for his neck given their positioning but it’s worth the tinge of pain when he sees for himself exactly where his lips are touching. He knows, deep down that it’s probably just a coincidence, after all; Louis can’t see in order to control where he places his kisses but he saves a mental picture of the sight; thin perfect lips pecking gently at the bigger sparrow.

 

“Love you so much Lou,” Harry can’t help the tears that slip down his cheeks.

 

“Love you too Harry, I love you too,” Louis grins before slinking out of Harry’s arms and smirking; all the while fiddling with the knot of his sweatpants.

 

Harry doesn’t have the patience to wait, and for once he doesn’t care if it means that Louis gets grumpy with him; he just wants to get in the shower and wrap himself up in the warmth of the water and Louis’ body.

 

The water pelts down on them like a torrent of hot rain, soaking their bodies from head to foot and it’s so good to be home. Home at last.

 

Louis’ wrapped around him like a koala and his head is tilted back as Harry washes it for him, rubbing the shampoo in gently and rinsing away the suds.

 

“My turn,” Louis grins and holds an upturned palm out in waiting; Harry grins before handing him the bottle.

 

He has to stoop a little, given their difference in height but it’s not awkward; in fact it’s pretty fucking perfect. Louis’ hands are like heaven as they run their way through his hair, tugging a little too hard at some of the curls just the way Harry likes.

 

“You hard love?” Louis’ voice echoes in the walls of the shower.

 

“Always am with you,” Harry lets a little moan slip out when Louis’ fingers scrape behind his ear and he’s so pleased when Louis laughs gleefully.

 

“Can I?”

 

“You’ve never asked before love, don’t feel like you’ve got to start now” Harry watches it happen, knows it’s coming but it only feels real once Louis’ sucking the bruises in to his skin. He’s holding onto Harry firmly, right hand gripping into the skin just above Harry’s elbow; his favourite spot to mark.

 

Harry can’t stop the moans he makes, and more to the point he wouldn’t ever want to, he just pulls Louis closer into him and lowers a hand to caress his way down the curve of his bum.

 

Louis sucks a kiss into the flesh just above Harry’s right nipple before drawing it into his mouth and nipping at it lightly with his teeth. Harry can feel the smirk that forms when the bud tightens in his mouth. Louis pulls off, flicking over the skin with his tongue before finding his way to Harry’s sternum.

 

“I know I’ve been a complete shit, but I do love you, you know?” Louis whispers the words into Harry’s skin and seals it with a open mouthed kiss before moving to his next nipple. He repeats the action and then giggles to himself ,which confuses Harry for a moment or two before Louis ducks his head and begins the same treatment on his _third_ nipple.

 

Harry’s hard and he knows that Louis knows, given that his dick is pressing against the slighter boy’s hip.

 

“Want you to come Harry,” Louis rises up and kisses his way along the surface of Harry’s skin until finally, their lips meet, while one of his hands tugs and twists gently at Harry’s nipple. His other hand wanders for a few seconds before trailing it’s way down the plains of his chest and end their journey wrapped loosely around his cock that hardens at the welcomed touch.

 

The little moans and whimpers that Harry makes are kissed away by Louis until the pair are breathless and pull back for air. Harry lets his head drop forward, his forehead dropping to rest against Louis’ shoulder and he looks down, watching with breathy gasps as Louis’ hand curves its way around his cock, paying careful attention to the leaking head, and when he comes his mouth bites into Louis’ collarbone; nipping a mark into the skin.

 

Harry regains his breath, his dick still twitching slightly in Louis’ light fist. He lifts his head, the cascading water of the shower echoing loudly against the glass panes of the shower stall. He pulls back and lets his eyes drink in the sight of Louis, his skin is whiter in pallor than usual but if anything it just makes his tattoos and dark pink nipples stand out more. His eyes reach Louis’ cock and he’s a little surprised to see that the boy isn’t hard.

 

“Wanna come Lou? Could suck you if you want?” Harry murmurs and the words bounce straight into Louis’ skin.

 

“No, it’s okay, thanks though,” Louis shuffles back slightly but Harry’s reluctant to relinquish his hold.

 

“You sure?” Harry’s confused; this is an alien situation to him for Louis to be turning down his blowjobs (except when they’re in interviews of course.)

 

Louis just continues to slink out of Harry’s hold and continues to hold himself under the spray of water. Harry exhales and watches, before ducking right in and pressing the sweetest kiss he can muster to Louis’ lips.

 

And it hurts, it really does when all Louis does is pull away, sending him a small smile but it’s painful all the same.

 

“Come on then love, we’ll turn wrinkly if we stay in here any longer,” Harry doesn’t wait for any reply; he just reaches up and turns off the shower, tugging Louis out with him before he can complain.

 

Louis’ wobbly as he stands on the bathmat, not even bothering to ask for a towel; instead he just breathes softly and lets Harry dry him.  Harry tries not to think about how completely unresponsive Louis is being; it’s never been like this before… Although, now that he thinks about it, it has been like this before; just in the few weeks that led up to Louis’ disappearance.

 

“There we are sweetheart, all dry now,” Harry grabs another towel and wraps it around himself, having become frozen and covered in goose bumps ever since they got out the shower.  Louis’ completely bare and there’s a few little water droplets still running their way in rivulets down his hairline but he’s pretty much dry. His hands are limp by his sides and Harry takes one, Louis’ right and holds it firmly in his left, before leading the boy through to their bedroom. Louis’ almost asleep as Harry pulls the cotton pyjama bottoms up his legs and when Harry asks him the stupid question of “Are you tired, babe?” All he receives is a quiet grunt in return.

 

Harry holds Louis until his breathing evens out and he’s sure the boy is asleep. Then he very carefully reaches for the bandage and begins to unwind it. His eyes are looking much better now; not as visibly infected as before but he knows that they still need bathing so he decides to leave the bandage off for the air to get to them for once while he goes to collect the lotions he needs. After promising Louis that he’ll be back soon he pulls on his own pyjamas and heads back to the boys.

 

He swears, a little annoyed _Fuck_ when he realises that Louis’ eye ointments are in the few pieces of luggage that have yet to be delivered.

 

“What’s wrong mate?” Liam asks, turning the television down before chucking the remote back on the couch cushion.

 

“Louis’ eye creams, they’ve not been dropped off yet, have they?”

 

“Ah, no, they haven’t.” Liam looks guilty and Harry doesn’t know why that should be; it’s not as if he’s in charge of the luggage’s arrival.

 

“Could just use like boiled water though couldn’t you? After it’s cooled obviously,” Zayn pipes up and Harry stares at him a little; trying to work out how he hasn’t fallen asleep yet in typical Zayn style.

 

Liam clambers up, slinking his way out from under the pile of Niall and Zayn before pushing Harry through to the kitchen where he starts the kettle boiling and pours it into a bowl.

 

“You okay?” He asks, holding the bowl hostage as Harry tries to take it from him.

 

“Yeah, fine, Lou’s asleep now, his eyes are looking a little better,” Harry feels as though he’s taking too long and he’s eager to return to Louis’ side.

 

“Didn’t ask about Lou though, did I? I asked about you, how are _you_ holding up Harry?” Liam asks, still having not handed over the bowl.

 

“I’m fine Li, well, not fine fine but I’m okay,” Harry’s suddenly hit by a wave of tiredness and he knows that Liam notices because the boy comes closer and clasps a firm hand on his shoulder.

 

“Go see Lou and do what you need to do but then come back down here with us and chill for a bit, it’d do you good to relax a little and me and the lads will be here to pop in on him every so often, okay?” The concern is heavy in Liam’s tone and it’s not until Harry agrees, that he finally gives him the water.

 

There’s a strange, yet familiar sound, when he climbs the stairs and he quickens his pace; the little moans and whimpers that Louis’ making lead him to suspect the boy is suffering from a nightmare. So it’s a little bit of a shock when he hurries into the room to find that Louis’ holding tightly on to the duvet; it’s bunched between his fists that are clenched so tightly the knuckles are whitened. He’s rutting forward, hips humping into a balled up section of the duvet, stuttered gasps falling from his half open mouth.

 

Harry is a little mesmorised, he moves forward, carefully placing the bowl of water on the bedside table before sinking on to the mattress and running a hand through Louis’ hair. Louis continues to grind and seek out friction and Harry leans down, kissing around Louis’ face, over his temple and his cheek before moving down the column of his throat. Just as he begins to work on sucking a bite into Louis’ neck the boy comes with a shuddered moan. Harry leaves one more kiss and moves away, taking in the sight of Louis whose mouth is still a little open and there’s little gasped puffs of air slipping in and out.

 

“H-arry,” His name falls quietly from Louis’ mouth on an outward breath and it makes him smile.

 

“Love you babe, I’ve got you, go back to sleep love,” Harry continues to smile to himself as he sets to work on cleaning Louis’ eyes. When that’s done he tapes a cotton pad over each of them and finally leaves the bed to dig out some fresh pyjamas. Louis is still and sleeping as Harry removes the duvet and strips him of his now soiled bottoms, darting to the bathroom to retrieve a cloth to wash him with. Once his skin is clean and come free he redresses him gently and tucks him back under the covers.

 

With one final look at his boyfriend, curled up and sleeping with his hair falling on the pillow he turns and heads back to the boys.

 

He can hear them chatting, voices low and serious, as he approaches but they all go quiet the second that they see him enter the lounge.

 

“Don’t mind me, will you?” He says, sarcasm evident as he wiggles his way onto the sofa with them.

 

“Sorry,” Liam apologises at the same time Zayn sighs and that’s when Harry knows it’s important; whatever they were discussing is something he needs to know.

 

“What is it?” He asks, fixing them all with a determined steely gaze.

 

“Mate, it’s, it’s like this. We’ve been talking, and like I dunno if you heard on the plane over, but we were talking with Paul and Jay and Dan and they all agree.” Liam is hedging and despite him trying to sound strong there’s signs of uncertainty clear in his voice.

 

“What Liam? What did you all agree on?” Harry’s desperate to know but he isn’t sure he’ll like the response.

 

“Well, we think, and it’s only thinking because like we aren’t doctors and we don’t know but --”

 

“What Liam’s trying to say, Harry, is that we think Lou might have PTSD.“ Zayn jumps in to save Liam from stumbling over any more words, “But you’d need to get him an appointment to know for sure because like, we are just guessing but he’s definitely showing signs of it; the mood swings and how quickly he can go from losing his temper to giggling and happy.”

 

“No, he’s always done that, always been like that, it just seems different now given the situation.” Harry isn’t sure why he’s so adamant that Louis doesn’t have PTSD but maybe it has something to do with the fact that it sounds so serious and clinical and it’s a label; no, Louis doesn’t have it.

 

“Think about it Harry, just think of it and read this,” Niall nudges an iPad into his lap with a screen open with information all about PTSD.

 

It’s a shock, because, as his eyes read the words, the more he has the sinking feeling in his gut that maybe Louis does in fact have it. The symptoms match up and it’s a little overwhelming when he reaches the end and there’s a little box saying ‘Make Appointments.’

 

“All you have to do is enter his details and he’ll get an appointment; there’s some slots free for this week, that way you’ll know and maybe surgery doesn’t have to be the only option; especially if there’s a chance it could maybe be cured without.” Liam seems to have composed himself and he’s far more capable of discussing it now that the conversation’s started.

 

Harry doesn’t do anything just yet, instead he just leaves the iPad perched on his knee and turns his attention to the television; the volume of which is turned back up after just one little sigh from Liam.

 

The boys end up staying the night, the guest rooms that they use fairly often making them right at home and then Harry’s left; the last one awake, television still flickering and chattering away quietly, filling the room with background noise.

 

He blinks away a few tears and unlocks the tablet, his breath held as he makes and confirms an appointment for the day after tomorrow. Once he’s done he clicks it locked and quickly pushes it away from him as if the very touch of it burns his skin.

 

He goes to bed that night and tucks himself around Louis, wrapping his arms around his thin body and he tries to press as much of his life into the slighter boy, hoping against hope that they have what it takes; whether it be to face surgery or therapy. “Love you Louis, you’re safe now,” Harry nestles his face into the back of Louis’ neck and closes his eyes, willing sleep to come quickly and for them both to sleep through the night. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. I've made you wait so long and I really hate this chapter, I just couldn't write it the way I envisioned it and I feel like I've made you wait too long and that I'm dragging this story out. I never imagined this story turning into 'this' when I first started it and it's like enormous and I don't know how to write it without it just being talk and no action and I just don't think it must be very entertaining for anyone to read?
> 
> As for taking so long to write this piece of shit, I'm sorry, I've just been super busy with deadlines which I know is a pathetic excuse but whenever I've had time to write I just haven't been able to.
> 
> I'll stop whining now, here's the next chapter and I apologise again for how shit it is, I really plan to keep my promise of finishing this fic as I'm tempted to make it my last.
> 
> Thank you for reading and I really, really hope it's okay!! x

It’s 09:15 and Louis’ curled up under the duvet feigning sleep. Harry knows he’s awake, of course he knows, he doesn’t have to see his boy’s eyes open to know that he’s no longer sleeping. He knows from the way that Louis’ holding his fingers curled into too tight of a fist that the boy’s been awake for at least the last hour and a half. Which is coincidentally the same length of time that Harry’s been watching over said boy.  The tea’s gone cold, it would, after having been sat there untouched on the bedside table for an hour and a half. Harry hasn’t drank his either, it’s just sitting there, a mirror image of Louis’ and he’s not sure what he’s doing, what he’s gaining from just sitting on his side of the bed, dressed in boxers and a t-shirt that’s a little too tight on him from Louis’ wardrobe. The boys are still around, somewhere in the house, their voices finding their way to his ears from wherever they are; combined into a low and constant hum broken only by randomly dispersed splutters of laughter.

 

Harry knows it’s ridiculous, he knows that it’s a long shot but right now it’s the only thing he’s got to pin his hopes onto.  And pin his hopes he does. He has to get them through today, and every other day that comes after that, but today is first and it seems like he’s embarking on a marathon.

 

He has twenty four hours to convince Louis to partake in this therapy session, to convince Louis that it could work, that it could help him more than this surgery could. But he knows Louis, and he knows that the boy’s stubborn; once his mind is set on something it’ll take a supreme effort to dissuade him from following through with it.

 

“Lou.” Harry rolls his eyes at himself, there he was trying to be all gentle and soft and pleasant for Louis to ‘wake up to’ but he didn’t account for the stupid croaky voice that would fall out of his mouth. It barely sounds like ‘Lou’ at all, more like his vocal chords going through a cheese grater.

 

He tries again after swallowing and licking his lips, beginning to wish he’d drank his tea after all, if only to wet his mouth. “Lou, babe, you awake?”

 

Of course he’s awake, that’s the thing nowadays, Harry may as well assume that Louis is always awake.

 

“Mmm” It’s not a great start but it’s a start and at least Louis probably has the decency to know that Harry knows.

 

“Got you some tea babe, but think it’ll be cold by now, you wanna get up and come get a fresh one with me?”

 

Louis knows fine well the tea is cold by now, he was awake when Harry clonked it down on to the coaster, his body involuntarily flinching at the near noise.

 

“Come on, you’re meeting the Doctor today and he’s gonna have a look at your eyes babe, see if there’s anything he can do.” Harry doesn’t wait for a reply this time; instead he just uncurls Louis from the covers and pulls him upwards until he’s willing to stand properly.

He tugs his boyfriend along to the kitchen and guides them both to the living room where he pushes Louis gently into the sofa space between Liam and Zayn.

 

Louis lands with a little airy sigh and for a moment Harry thinks the boy is going to complain about being manhandled but he doesn’t, and Harry can’t help but wish he did because it’s so unlike Louis. Before he can spare any more time thinking about it however, Niall is announcing that he’ll help Harry before carting them away to the kitchen, Harry’s feet just loping along as Niall pushes his back along.

 

“There’s a car coming to pick you up for the Doctor’s appointment at 12.” Niall begins to pop some slices of bread in the toaster and clicks on the kettle, his voice keeping low and quiet as if he’s aware of Louis overhearing them. “Have you thought anymore about what we said last night?”

 

Harry just sighs, closes his eyes and shakes his head; full of the knowledge about how shit the day is going to be.

 

\-----------------------  

 

Fuming doesn’t really cover Harry’s feelings of anger fairly. He’s seething, it’s bubbling under the surface and he’s been trying to reign it in, not let it show too much, trying his best to not let it shake his voice but he knows it isn’t working and that just serves to anger him even more. He’s pissed off with everything, absolutely everything and it’s so ridiculous because it’s all out of his control; there’s nothing he can do about any of it and it’s frustrating as hell.

 

He’s angry at the people that took Louis, he’s angry at what they did to him, to his Louis, he’s angry at Louis’ goddamn eyes and he’s angry at the doctor who’s told them that he thinks he can cure them with an operation that, if it goes wrong could leave him _permanently and irreparably blind_ and he’s angry that Louis agreed to the surgery then and there; choosing to go through with it in two weeks time.

 

Two weeks.

 

Harry’s not a fool, despite what some of the public might think, he’s intelligent and more importantly, he has more than an ounce of common sense. He knows that Louis’ sick of not being able to see, hell, Louis’ more sick of it than Harry is and it’s difficult to think how much that truly is. Harry is well aware that Louis’ grasping at straws and he knows exactly how the Doctor sold the surgery. He did it spectacularly well; with a wonderfully sentimental appeal to Louis about how _dark_ his world must be right now, how lonely and how depressing. Harry had listened with one hand curled lovingly around one of Louis’ own, their tattoos matching up as planned and Harry knows how much it must kill Louis to not be able to take in the sight of their futures inked into their skin. And he knows that it’s Louis’ choice, they are Louis’ eyes after all. But, Harry thinks it needs to be talked through, the pros and cons discussed because it’s surgery. And it isn’t just any surgery. It’s part of Louis’ eye being removed and having _biosynthetic_ replacements sewn in. Just the Doctor talking about it had made the pair of them clasp their hands tighter together and Harry had only had to look at the way Louis was nervously biting his bottom lip to know how petrified he must be. But then he’d agreed anyway. He’d agreed to go through with it on the spot, completely ignorant to the way the Doctors eyes had lit up and maybe, possibly, Harry’s being unfair and spiteful, but the eyes had fucking pound signs in them. And yes, he’s a Doctor and he cares and he must love getting to do surgeries like this and with a client as famous as Louis he must be sure of the publicity that’s going to come from an operation of this sort but he’s also absolutely aware of the monetary value.

 

It’s all riled Harry up and he knows he’s been short with the boys, telling them to go home because he wants himself and Louis to have their space. He knows it’s unfair, the way he’s unplugged the phone and stolen Louis’ mobile to totally hide them from the outside world.

 

He’s so angry and it’s consuming him. He hates the way that Louis’ gone and curled himself up on the stool by the telephone in their entrance way because it’s the first fucking seat that he found and he refused Harry’s help through to the lounge. He’s angry with himself, angry and ashamed that he’d simply muttered an ‘okay’ to Louis before stomping away to the kitchen.

 

He’s so angry that he’s shaking, his hands and fingers trembling so badly he can’t peel the shitty tangerine that’s been plaguing him for best part of five minutes now. With a furious curse he throws the innocent fruit ball at the wall and watches with distance as it whacks into the fridge so violently that it squirts some juice before flopping to the floor.

 

He doesn’t do anything to stop the tears when they come, and he sinks to the floor, fingers twisting in his hair painfully, anger in his veins, a dent in his fridge, an abused orange on the tiles and his best friend a whole world away.

 

He stays there, legs splayed out, arms fallen to slump on his thighs until the tears run dry and the anger fades away into nothingness. It’s probably still there, bubbling under the surface, just as it has been since this whole ordeal started, it’s just not fiercely painful anymore.

 

The sun’s gone down by the time he collects himself together enough to pick the tangerine up and clamber to his feet. The house is silent, the occasional tick of a pipe, a random chirping call of a bird outside but that’s it.

 

With a sharp inhale of breath he squares his shoulders and abuses the tangerine one more time by squashing it against the counter top before turning on his heel and walking out of the kitchen.

 

He’s stopped in his tracks by the sight of his boy. Louis’ curled up, legs bent at the knee and tucked up under his bum, one arm looped around them just so that the little red heart’s on show, the other limply propping his slumped head up. There are new bandages on his eyes now, courtesy of Doctor Horton who’d smiled widely as he’d taken in the sight of Louis’ uncovered eyes before wrapping fresh gauze around his head.

 

“Lou?” He speaks without thinking, the name falling from his lips second nature by now, and it startles him with how quiet and soft and gentle it is.

 

His feet move without his permission to, carrying him across the linoleum until he’s hovering over the small ball of boy.

 

There’s no reply but it’s clear now from the quiet snuffles of breath that Louis’ asleep and he knows how tired he is so he’s sure that Louis must be equally, if not more exhausted. Carefully, so very gently he slides a hand around Louis’ back to cup at the warm t-shirt covered back while slipping the other hand under his calves, knuckles trailing the material of the stool. He lets himself whisper a soft murmur of words just to let Louis’ ever listening ears know who it is that’s collecting him from the stool. And then Louis’ in his arms, soft and full of sleep, pliant and seemingly peaceful for once as Harry cradles them up the stairs and into bed. As soon as he deposits Louis onto the bed the boy curls into the duvet and immediately squirms a little towards the right hand side. Harry doesn’t miss a beat; he clambers in and wraps his arms around Louis, pushing his nose tenderly into the hair that’s fallen softly against Louis’ forehead before pressing a lingering kiss there.

 

“Love you,” It’s murmured and sleep filled but it takes him by surprise.

 

“Love you too, go back to sleep,” He whispers after a long moment, stilling to leave another kiss before snuggling down and wrapping his arm tighter around the curve at the dip of Louis’ back.

 

“No, ‘m not sleepy,” The yawn that follows the determined words begs to differ but Harry doesn’t have the energy to dispute this.

 

“Okay,” Harry lets his eyes close and he feels himself just about to drift off when Louis starts to speak.

 

“I know you don’t agree with the surgery,” The words are quiet, only a little louder than a whisper and his voice cracks a little at the end.

 

“It’s your decision love, whatever you choose,” Harry feels the anger stir within him again and it’s really annoying, he’s wanted this conversation so much for the last few hours but now that it’s happening he’d rather anything else instead.

 

“But what do you think?” There’s the sound of rustling sheets and the feel of a body moving closer; he doesn’t need to open his eyes to know that Louis’ squirming to find a more comfortable position as close to Harry as he can.

 

“I think you need to think about it before you decide anything love,” His fingers start tapping out a random beat against Louis’ back while silence once again fills the air.

“I have thought, I’ve done nothing but think, this is what I want, so it’d be nice if you were at least slightly happy for me H.”

 

Harry’s eyes snap open at their own accord then, the anger turning swiftly into incredulity. “What the fuck does that mean Lou?”

 

“Exactly what I said, you know how shit this is for me and I get a chance, one fucking chance and you can’t be happy for me.” Louis starts to shuffle around some more as if he’s making a move to pull away.

 

“When have I said that I’m not happy about Horton offering to do the surgery for you?” Harry holds onto him tightly trying his best to not take offence to the way Louis’ beginning to move back.

 

“In the car. You --”

 

“Louis I didn’t say anything of the sort in the car and you know it!” Harry cuts over Louis, his voice louder than it needs to be given their close proximity but the anger’s welling up again and he fears that he won’t be able to control it for much longer.

 

“It’s not what you said, it’s what you didn’t say. You’re forgetting that I know you. And I know what you think and you don’t have to say something for me to know what you want to say.” Louis’ voice is getting louder too and it’s all to clear where this is going. Worst of all, Harry isn’t sure he’d want to stop it even if he had the energy to try.

 

“If you want me to be completely honest then yeah, I don’t think you should be having the surgery; at least not yet. Not this soon. And I know!” He almost shouts to prevent Louis from interrupting, “I know this isn’t what you want to hear because it feels as though you’ve already waited too long but like, fuck Lou, this is it. This is your life and you have like one shot. One decision to change this, and I want you to see more than anything, you know that; I know you do. But please, please just don’t agree yet, think about it, talk it through with someone. It doesn’t even have to be me, or one of the boys, hell; it doesn’t even have to be someone you know. Just think about it a little, please, before you let someone take a scalpel or needle to your eye.” Harry swallows when he draws breath and the room is full of tension as he waits for whatever’s coming next.

 

“I _knew_ you had an opinion, I knew that’s what you thought. Thanks a lot Harry.” It’s cruel and bitter and full of sarcasm and it’s not a tone that’s unfamiliar to Harry when he’s heard his boyfriend talk to so many members of management like that but it’s never been a tone used to address _him_ before. It stings. Hurts like hell, and it leaves a settling swooping feeling heavy in his stomach in its aftermath.

 

“You asked and I was _honest_. You asked for my opinion and now you’re pissed at me! Really Lou? Is there any way we can have a conversation without you getting pissed at me?” Harry’s hand clenches into a tight fist at Louis’ back and he knows from the sound of Louis’ sharp inhale that his nails have just scratched his skin.

 

“I just wish you could be happy for me, happy that I’ve got this,” The sarcasm is still ripe in Louis’ voice and Harry can’t take it anymore so he removes his hand from Louis’ back completely, trying his best to ignore the distance between them

that’s so glaringly obvious.

 

“Don’t do that, don’t you dare think that I’m not happy that you could have this surgery. I just, Louis, the boys and I, we think that you need to like take a step back from this and just spend a few days talking about what happened to you. ‘Cause, ‘s like, you’ve not spoken to any of us about it and you’re not dealing with it --”

 

“What the fuck would you know about how I’m dealing with this?” Louis’ sitting up now and Harry has to physically stop himself from putting out a balancing hand when it looks for a second that the other boy might just fall from the bed.

 

“Nothing Lou, and that’s the point! You haven’t said a word, none of us know what happened to you, what really happened to you and I get that talking about it would bring back memories and shit but like, fuck Lou, _not_ talking about it hasn’t really worked that well for you.” Harry knows that they’ve started something now and as much as he would rather just wrap his arms around his boyfriend, settle them both down into the comfort of their bed and let sleep take a hold he knows that they need to see this conversation through.

 

“So, what, you saying I need to like see a fucking shrink or something like some crazy person, all because I’m not ‘talking about my troubles’.” And fuck, it’s like Harry’s been burned when he sees Louis’ mouth twist up with his sour tone and the fact that his fingers are doing the air quotes.

 

“I don’t know Lou, I don’t know,” Harry shouts before stopping and taking a deep breath to collect himself before swallowing and trying again. “I don’t know because I’ve never gone through anything like this before but I know that I love you, I _love_ you. I love you okay? I love your eyes and I miss them, I miss seeing the crinkles when you laugh and I fucking miss seeing you laugh. I love and you know that, come on, ‘course you know that. But what you’re planning to do, you’re happier to let someone fiddle with your eyes and possibly cause even more damage rather than have a conversation with someone? That’s insane Louis.”

 

“You finished?” Louis’ voice is quieter than before and Harry just shakes his head, feeling as though he’s not really gone about this conversation in the right way.

 

“I’ve said what I wanted to say, yeah,” He tries to ignore the way Louis’ lips are twisted into a thin frown and the little worry lines on his forehead.

 

“’m not crazy Harry and I’d appreciate it if you’d just give me this, let me have this so I can get my life back.”

 

“Louis!” Harry shoots up so he’s stood now, knees knocking against the side of the mattress, towering over his boy who’s trying to look at him defiantly; only his head is tilted in the wrong direction. There’s a feeling of immensity welling up in his gut now and it’s overwhelming, “You’re not crazy babe, fuck, I have never and will never ever say or think that you’re crazy because you’re not. You hear me? Its just people can’t go through something like you did without being at least a little affected. So just do this one thing for me, go see this guy and have a sodding conversation and see if it changes anything.”

 

There’s a minute or two of dead silence before Louis quietly says, “’This guy?’ You’ve already fucking sorted it out haven’t you? You’ve just spent all of this time trying to guilt me about the fact that I’ve just been given the chance to have all this solved and the whole time, the whole fucking time you’ve had me down to see a shrink. Sending me to the loony bin already and, and,” Louis’ voice dies away and it breaks Harry’s heart when he sees the way he’s biting his wobbling lip.

 

“Lou, ‘s not like that, you have to know th--”

 

“Get out.”

 

“What?”

 

“Go, just go Harry, get out,” Louis’ voice is building in volume again and his cheeks are reddening with the flush of anger.

 

“Lou, don’t do this,” Harry wishes he’d never started this conversation more than anything, wishes there wasn’t this great gap between them and that he could just ignore it all and hug the boy he loves into his arms.

 

“Fine then, if you won’t go I will.”

 

“No, no, I will,” Harry’s rushed voice stops Louis in his tracks where he’s mid roll off the bed. “If you really want me to go, I will, but I’ll be here, ready to come back whenever you want me to. If you want me to.” By the time he finishes his voice is thick with the tears and the sting at the back of his throat is a welcome punishment for what he’s done.

 

He takes one final look at Louis before whispering an _I love you_ into the air and all but runs from the room when there’s no reply. He stumbles into the hallway and his legs give out, crumpling him to the floor. He doesn’t cry though, he tries to keep quiet because Louis doesn’t want him there so he surely won’t want to hear Harry crying right outside the room.

 

He’s there for a while, until the wet behind his eyes turns dry and gritty and his throat is really stinging now, mouth dry every time he swallows.

By now he’s convinced that Louis must have fallen asleep because there’s no sound coming from the room and he dares to pull himself from the floor, using his hands to move on to his knees and then leaning on the wall for balance. It’s like he’s aged into an old man throughout this whole ordeal and he wishes it was different.

 

He moves off down the hall and the only thing he can think to do is clean.

 

\-----------------------   

 

Turns out, Louis wasn’t asleep.

 

It takes Harry a couple of very long seconds to process the banging sounds and the curses being flung at the world before he drops the polish and hightails it to the bedroom.

 

Louis’ midway through attacking the products lined up on their chest of drawers when Harry makes it to his side, grabbing out desperately to pin his arms and hold him still.

 

“Get off me!” Louis’ squirming, wriggling, determinedly trying to wrench himself free from Harry’s grip and one look at the panic on his face has Harry remembering.

 

“Hey, hey, ‘s me, ‘s just me Lou, come on, shh,” He tightens his grip and desperately clenches his eyes shut; trying to block out the view of his boyfriend trying to get away from him. “Shh, love, please it’s just me, you’re okay, you’re alright darling, it’s just me.”

 

It takes a while but eventually Louis does stop and Harry knows the fights left him when his body slumps in Harry’s arms.

 

“I’m not crazy, I’m not, I don’t care what you think but I’m _not_ crazy.” The words are mumbled into Harry’s collarbone and they squeeze a fist around his beating heart.

 

“You don’t need to be crazy to talk to someone Louis, I just wish you could see that there’s a chance surgery could make the damage to your eyes permanent and God, if there’s even the smallest chance that this could work then isn’t it worth the shot?” His hands are cradling Louis’ own, playing with his fingers as if to soften his words but the sight of blood catches his eye. There are a few broken cd cases on the floor, left behind in the trail of Louis’ anger. “You’re bleeding a little love, must ‘ve grazed your finger on one of the CDs. Does it hurt? Can I clean it for you babe?”

 

Harry says it gently, letting the words melt from his lips slowly as if to soften the blow because he’s not sure how well he’d cope if he was in Louis’ position; hurting so much that he hasn’t even acknowledged the throbbing sting that must be coming from the cut.

 

“Am I?” It’s almost as if the very essence of defeat has been bottled up and exchanged with Louis’ voice; he’s so quiet and sad and the question isn’t laced with surprise, as it ought to be. It’s just there, just there, in the same way that Louis seems to be just there; no real sign of vibrancy or life in either.

 

“Yeah, just a little, come on, we can fix this,” Harry’s determined, kisses Lou once more and then collects them both together, Louis’ legs automatically moving to rest at his hips; feet entwining themselves together behind his back and hands linking together to settle at the top of his spine.

 

They do fix it; an alcohol wipe, a plaster and three kisses until the small cut is covered and Harry lifts his boy back down from atop the bathroom counter.

 

“I didn’t mean to get mad at you; never at you. I’m sorry,” Louis’ addressing Harry but his lips are murmuring the words against the skin of the smaller bird on his skin, he can feel their movement, every time they change formation with the sounds he feels the touch of Louis and he has to close his eyes, as if to show solidarity in the darkness of his vision.

 

“You don’t have to apologise Lou, not to me, never to me, just think about it? Me and the boys and your mum all think it’s worth a try.”

 

“My mum? You talked about this with my mum?” Louis’ turning the volume up again, louder against his skin and Harry didn’t mean to let that piece of information slip.

 

“Only because we love you, want you to get better, that’s all,” He seals it with a curl of his hand around Louis’ hip.

 

“You think it’d work, that _talking_ with a shrink has a better chance than surgery?” Louis hasn’t uncrossed his legs yet, even though his back is now flush with the wrinkled duvet so Harry’s stuck leaning down over him, elbows holding him up where they frame Louis’ head.

 

“No idea babe, but isn’t it worth a shot? Just in case,” Harry leans down and automatically their mouths connect, lips moving softly against each other.

 

He climbs onto the bed, knees bracketing Louis’ slightly spread thighs and as he moves their tummies touch, soft sounds filling their ears and Harry thinks they should definitely kiss until the end of time because it’s one of the best feelings in the world. Touching his boy, being this close that he can feel the breath puffing from Louis, can feel the slide of his tongue where it’s licking softly at his lower lip. It’s second nature to them both now and despite how good it is, it doesn’t get heated, not this time.

 

Two pairs of swollen lips later, they part, each one feeling as though there’s been some release of new life within them.  Harry leans in, kisses him once more before letting his lips part into a grin and he falls to the side, flush against Louis’ body.

 

“And it’s not because I’m crazy?”

 

“Never. I promise” Harry seals it with a kiss.

 

\-----------------------   

 

They wake up at the sound of the birds singing their morning song and the day already feels brand new to Harry because Louis’ awake, sitting up with a hand threading it’s way through his hair, twisting into his springy loosened curls.

 

“Morning love,” Harry grins, nuzzling into the warm touch.

 

“Mor-ning,” Louis repeats and God he must have woken up in a good mood because he’s talking in a silly voice, a little singsong that makes Harry unbelievably happy.

 

They spend a long time grinning and murmuring words of love and sharing sweet kisses, uncaring of the morning breath they both have until Louis’ tummy rumbles.

 

“Come on, breakfast time,” Harry’s just leaning over to pull on some boxers from the floor when Louis clambers his way onto his back, laughing when Harry stumbles slightly.

 

“Carry me,” And would Harry ever say no to that?

 

Unfortunately, Harry stumbles and almost drops Louis when they reach the kitchen, expelling a shocked breath and desperately clutching at Louis after a moment so that he doesn’t hit the ground.

 

“Care to explain why you’ve made us all worry for the past fourteen hours?” Paul’s sat at the counter, how, Harry has no idea but then his brain catches up with him making him swear when he realises that he never turned their phones back on.

 

“Um,” He lets go of Louis carefully when he feels him trying to get free from his back. “I can explain.”

 

“You don’t have to explain Harry, I understand that you’d want your privacy but please just remember that none of us know that you’re both alright if neither of you answer your phones for that long.” Paul is staring at him, eyes scolding and Harry barely registers his state of undress until he sees Louis tentatively reach out for a seat wearing yesterday’s clothes.

 

“Hi Paul!” Harry laughs when he sees that Louis has found his favourite swivel stool in the kitchen and is happily spinning around, hands outstretched so he can push himself and gather momentum from the countertop.

 

“Morning Lou, not changed I see?” Paul laughs with Harry, it’s good, it feels good to have this still. “Boys, a car’s collecting you in an hour and a half so get some food, get washed and please for the love of God put some fresh clothes on.”

 

Luckily Paul bids them farewell and makes a swift exit after that because suddenly the room feels a little too hot and far too small. Louis silent and watching, waiting for the explanation he feels he’s due and Harry doesn’t think he could handle it if Louis was looking the right way at him because it’s intimidating enough. He inhales once, patters his naked feet against the tiles until he’s hovering over Louis, kisses him once before asking how he’d like his eggs.

 

Convincing Louis to see the shrink is going to be a battle, and everyone knows a battle is best won when accompanied by eggs benedict. 


	18. Note

Hi, 

I'm so sorry for not updating in so long but this story has come a little too close to home for me :-( I'm waiting to have an operation that could permanently affect my vision. I love this story so much and I am so grateful to every single person who has read, kudosed and commented. Thank you for making this whole writing thing so enjoyable and rewarding! :) 

I hope to be back posting in the summer but I guess it's just a case of wait and (hopefully!) see!!

I'm really sorry for letting you all down and I am determined still to finish this xxx

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from a Jack's Mannequin song called Kill the Messenger.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the band, or any individuals that you recognise in this piece of fiction, I made up the coach driver and he's a friendly chap so I hope you like him as much as I do. I'm not gaining anything from this besides a little happy feeling of glee when someone reads it... I hope someone reads this.


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